Bloody Love
by soupcan
Summary: When Ed tries to bring Al back to life, he and Roy end up in Harry Potter's world. What happens when Ed and Roy become something more than friends? ...eventual HPFMA, RoyEd.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **This is a RoyEd fic, so if you detest that pairing, don't read. Also, this is an eventual HPFMA, though I think it may take until chapter 2 to cross it over. This is the prologue, so not much happens. It just explains how Ed and Al get home after the Conqueror of Shamballa.

* * *

General Roy Mustang stared, depressed, at the Gate that Fullmetal and his brother had just disappeared through. Fullmetal (_Ed_, his mind insisted) had left him with explicit instructions to destroy this side of the Gate. But he just couldn't do it. 

He missed Ed already, and it had only been a few hours since the boy left. In that time, the cleanup of Central had started, he had officially taken back his position as general, and he had realized that he couldn't just let Ed leave again.

"Ed, I'll bring you back," he whispered, letting the sacrilegious words roll off his tongue without a thought as to who might be listening as he stood in the rain next to the Gate he had promised to destroy.

A month later, he was ready. He had even gone through Ed's personal items to find Hoenheim's journal and the theories contained within. He had been disgusted to realize that the energy used for alchemy came from the pain and suffering of another world, but, according to Hoenheim's journal, not using alchemy wouldn't cure the world's ills. If he couldn't do anything to prevent suffering and it wasn't caused by him, then he didn't care.

He just wanted Ed back.

Drawing the transmutation circle took him hours. It was an incredibly complex array, so he double-checked everything but didn't find any mistakes. Finally, he slit his forearm with a knife, allowing the blood to slowly drip down to the floor.

He was ready. He pressed his hands to the array on the ground, then was surrounded by a harsh golden light.

The Gate. He stood in awe before it, letting its splendor amaze him to keep his mind off what he was about to do.

"Give me back Ed and his brother," he demanded, shocked at hearing how bold his voice was. "I'll give you anything you want in return."

He felt, rather than heard, the Gate's answer. _Puny mortal, you have nothing to interest me. Go away._

"No. I won't go until you give me Fullmetal and his brother!" spat Roy.

This time the words were amused._ Puny mortal, you're in love, aren't you?_

Roy was both appalled and furious. How dare the Gate avoid the subject, and how _dare_ the Gate mock him?

_Mock you? Puny mortal… Still, I suppose love is worth something. In return for the boys, I will also bring back the homunculus Envy, who will ensure that you will return to pay your debt. Yes, debt, and believe me, I _will_ collect._

Roy lost consciousness as he was surrounded by another golden light, this one warm and welcoming.

* * *

"Where am I?" said Ed dazedly, sitting up and rubbing his head. The last thing he remembered was trying to figure out how to destroy the Gate without alchemy while sitting in a shelter with Noah and his brother. Speaking of which, he felt someone lying underneath him. Someone with brown hair. 

"Nii-san?" asked Al quietly. "Why are we in Amestris again?"

"I don't know, Al."

"Nii-san?"

"Yes, Al?"

"Do you mind getting off me? You're rather heavy with all that automail."

Ed blushed and scrambled up as quickly as he could. Then, he looked around and noticed a familiar figure lying on the ground by the edge of a huge transmutation circle. He blanched as he realized exactly what the array was for, and who had activated it. He ran over to the general and began shaking him.

"Mmph," said Roy indistinctly. "Stop that."

"You're alright!" gasped Ed happily. "I can't believe you're alright!"

"Of course I am, Fullmetal. And you will forgive me for not following orders from my junior officer to destroy this side of the Gate, right? I do detest following orders, and destroying one side of the Gate should be sufficient, don't you think?"

Ed bit his lip. It _should_ be enough, but he felt guilty for leaving Noah behind, not that it was his fault. He was so glad to see Roy, though, and he didn't belong in that world anyway, so… "Sure. And thanks. I missed Amestris."

Roy smiled- the first true smile in a long time. He snapped his fingers, effectively crisping the Gate above them. "I'm glad, Fullmetal. Let's go tell everyone you're back."

The scene at the office was best described as chaotic, though that was a rather large understatement. Havoc decided that Ed's return warranted the consumption of large amounts of alcohol in celebration. After getting himself and several others completely drunk, he began stripping and flirting with Hawkeye, which earned him a bullet hole through his jacket. Hawkeye herself broke down in tears and sobbed. Throughout the proceedings, Al stood off to the side and looked uncomfortable.

Finally, Ed managed to escape the mass of bodies that surrounded him so that he could talk to his brother. "Al, you should go see Winry."

Al blushed. "But Nii-san! I don't want to leave you here by yourself!"

"Don't be ridiculous. I've got these lunatics. You know you and Winry have some making out to catch up on, and I sure don't want to be there to see the effects."

Al laughed. "I can't get anything past you, can I? I'll tell her you said hi, and I'll be back in a week." He practically ran out of the building, trying to convince himself that he hadn't just seen Havoc standing nude on a table.

Ed looked around at his friends (yes, _friends_, said his mind) and felt a deep ache at the thought of not seeing them again. At that moment, he decided to stay in the military.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Finally, something happening. This is supposed to be a slightly emotional chapter, but it may not be, depending on who's reading this. If you're a sucker for angst and romance like me, it might be slightly emotional. Woot. Anyway, I think Harry will be making an entrance next chapter... I mean it! I already have it written out! And, yes, there are a lot of little lines in this chapter, but I'm trying to capture the characters' individual responses to the events. Hopefully it works.

* * *

The ground shook as Ed clapped his hands and placed them on the well-worn floor, causing spikes to rise from the formerly smooth surface in an attempt to impale the green-haired homunculus that was standing at the other end of the room. The homunculus, Envy, dodged and ran toward Ed, changing his face to its original form as he did so.

"Now, chibi-san, would you kill your own brother?" taunted the now golden-haired homunculus.

"Yes!" retorted Ed angrily. "Die!" He clapped his hands again, this time transforming his automail arm into a short blade. He rushed toward Envy, trying to stab him, but Envy managed to evade him every time.

Alphonse knelt in a corner, working on a large transmutation circle. As he finished, he shouted, "Ready, Nii-san!"

Ed lashed out at Envy, forcing him into the circle as Al pressed his hands to the outside of the complex array to activate it. A harsh blue light shone. Envy fell to his knees and began vomiting red stones.

He crawled, trying to escape the array that was draining his life force, but collapsed just before he reached the edge. In a last desperate act of defiance, he changed his arm to a blade similar to Ed's and reached out to Alphonse. The blade plunged into Al's chest and impaled his heart.

"Alphonse!" A heart-wrenching scream tore from Ed. He ran to his brother, desperate to save him.

Envy, however, refused to let Ed live. When Ed neared, Envy pulled his blade-hand out of Al's chest. He turned, fingers grasping at the worn floor, and plunged the blade into Ed's stomach. This act took the last of his energy, and he collapsed. Blood ran from his mouth as he died.

Ed fell to his knees, clutching his stomach. His automail blade changed back to an arm, and hot blood ran between his fingers. His blood. He collapsed.

"Edward!" Another loud wail pierced the silence that had settled over the hall as General Roy Mustang entered. He looked as though he would faint as he saw Alphonse dead and Ed dying.

Al's spirit lingered on that plane of existence just long enough to see Roy cradling Ed's head in his lap and sobbing. Then his soul departed for the Gate of Truth.

* * *

Ed opened one golden eye to see a black-haired head resting by his arm. He pushed himself up, trying not to wake the sleeping General, and examined his surroundings.He was in the Rockbell's living room, on a hastily set up futon. He was wearing nothing but boxers and the bandages on his torso. He looked around, trying to find Alphonse, then remembered what had happened. Immediately panicking, he threw off the covers, then belatedly remembered the sleeping General. He lay back down as Roy woke. 

"Hey, Roy. You okay?" asked Ed, genuinely concerned.

Roy looked at him, seeming dazed. "Yeah," he answered, his mind obviously a million miles away. Then he blushed.

* * *

I was asleep, and when I woke up the first thing I saw was a pair of beautiful golden eyes. Edward _was_ a remarkably good-looking young man in the first place, and since his shirt was shirt was off and his face was close enough to touch mine, I couldn't help it. I blushed.

He stared at me, looking confused, dazed, and hopelessly lost. I immediately felt guilty. He had just lost his brother, and here I was thinking… dirty thoughts. Looking into those hopeless golden eyes, I felt my heart breaking.

I climbed out of my chair and sat on the bed next to him. Tears formed in his eyes and he collapsed, sobbing into my shoulder. I stayed there until he cried himself to sleep, then lay down with him and slept as well.

* * *

The first thing that I noticed when I woke was that I lay in someone's arms. Curious, I turned around. It was Roy.

His normally taut face was smooth and relaxed. His hair fell forward into his eyes. He almost looked angelic.

I smoothed back his hair, torn between the feelings I had for him and the profound sadness I felt at the loss of Al.

_Al… I'm so sorry._ Hot tears rolled down my cheeks to splash on the crisp linen sheet. _It's all my fault. It's _always_ been my fault. Everything that happened… You never should have been in that armor, Al. You never should have died._

A new idea occurred to me. _The Gate wants _me_. It's always wanted me. Maybe if I give it what it wants…_

Roy turned slightly in his sleep. He was so defenseless and human in his sleep, not like the invincible commander he tried to make us think he was… How could I leave him? But if I did, Al might be brought back…

Fortunately, I was temporarily spared the decision as the door burst open.

* * *

Winry barged in, eyes red and hair falling out of its customary ponytail. She was so distraught that she didn't even notice that Ed was cradled in Roy's arms.

"Edward!" She slapped him across the face. "How could you let him die? You bastard!"

Her screams finally woke General Mustang, who fell out of bed in shock. He glanced at Ed and saw tears brimming in his golden eyes.

"Winry," began Ed sadly.

"Shut up!" she screamed. "It's all your fault! Al's dead and it's all _your_ fault!" She slapped him again, crying hysterically, and ran from the room.

The silence that followed was tense and awkward. Roy picked himself up off the floor and looked at Ed sympathetically. The statement that followed was one that both shocked and disgusted him.

"She's right. I deserve to die."

Roy recoiled at the thought, then retorted, "Don't you _dare_ think that! Death is a coward's way out of a situation, and besides, I need you here with me."

Again, a tense silence followed.

_Did I really just hear that? True, he's always been there for me, now that I look back, and true, the abuse of my height (or lack thereof) was never meant to hurt me. True, looking back now, I consider him an extremely good friend, but I never thought he would see me as anything but his subordinate._

_Did I really just say that? God, I am such an idiot. Telling him like this… He's probably going to get post-traumatic stress and have to attend therapy for the rest of his life. God! Why did I have to say that?_

Ed turned to Roy, who was now sitting in a chair beside his bed, and smiled sadly. Roy leaned in closer and placed his arms around him. Ed collapsed into them and began sobbing, pleading with Al to forgive him. After a while, he went quiet, and Roy looked down at him with concern, noticing one thing above all else.

Blood.

Lots and lots of blood.

"Pinako, Winry!" he screamed. "Help!"

* * *

Winry stared down at Edward, her eyes brimming with tears for what felt like the millionth time that day. She felt guilty for her outburst earlier, and knew that Ed was undoubtedly taking Al's death harder than she was. _Yet I still had the gall to blame him for it? He must have done everything he could to save Al. He's always tried to sacrifice himself to save Al. If General Mustang hadn't been there, Ed would have died as well._

Ed was still close to dying. Envy's thrust had missed any vital organs, but Ed had lost a lot of blood. If five minutes had passed before Roy found him… Well, she was glad that Roy had accompanied the brothers on this trip.

Winry laid her hand on Ed's forehead, feeling his temperature. He was slightly cool, not sweating, even in the awful heat and his breathing was shallow and irregular.

She looked around quickly, checking that nobody was there, then leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. "I never got to tell Al that I loved him. Now the best that I can do is tell you, Ed. When you see him again, tell him that, will you?" she whispered. She pulled back, sighed, and left the room.

As she was leaving, Roy walked in. He had a pale face, as he hadn't slept much in the past few days. His hair, usually well-kept, if messy, looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks. His eyes, usually a bright, smug black, were dull and unresponsive. In short, he was falling apart.

Ed, sadly, looked even worse than Roy did. He had dark circles under his eyes from exhaustion, his skin was as white as marble, his hair was dull, and there was blood, both dried and fresh, covering him.

Roy sat in the chair Winry had just vacated, staring at Ed. His Ed. Ed finally stirred, one dull golden eye opening partway.

"Hey," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Hey," said Roy, looking relieved. "How are you feeling?"

"Alright, I guess. Al's doing worse than I am, though, so I can't complain. His funeral is tomorrow. I overheard Pinako and Winry talking about the arrangements. I still can't believe he's gone…"

Roy placed his hand over Ed's. "Just don't try to bring him back, okay? We all miss him, but we don't want to lose you. _I_ don't want to lose you."

Ed tried to sit up, he was so startled. The motion made him grimace in pain, though, and he quickly fell back. _Why? _he thought. _When did this happen? Sure, we've been more than friends since I came back from Germany, but he's never been willing to admit it before. When did he start caring so much?_

"Let things be, Ed. Can you do that? Can you live for us? For _me_?"

The silence that followed was nearly deafening until Ed finally said, in a small voice, "I don't know. But I can try."

Roy pulled him into a firm but gentle hug. It felt like a tiny slice of Heaven, not that he believed in all that religious nonsense. Yes, he could try.

Later that night, Ed woke in a cold sweat. He had been dreaming about Al, about the night they tried to resurrect their mother. As he lay there, he heard Winry sobbing and was overcome with guilt. He looked down at the black-haired head that lay beside him. He raised a hand to caress that hair, then gave in to the guilt. He slowly rose from the bed and left the house, going to the barn where his brother's body was stored.

He spent half an hour there, drawing the transmutation circle, before he was ready to attempt the resurrection. As he touched the circle and a familiar blue light surrounded him, Roy burst in. As his body began to disintegrate, Roy grabbed on to him. The blue light became blinding, then they were both standing before the hideous monstrosity that was the Gate of Truth.

The doors slowly opened to reveal thousands of eyes, all of them wide and staring. Black, snakelike forms reached out and grabbed them, dragging them into the depths of hell.

* * *

Images flashed by, blinding me. There were so many, and it hurt so much! I thought I was going to die from all the information that was being crammed into my head… 

I turned to look at Ed, ignoring the images that were flashing by. His face wore an expression of both intense pain and determination. Somehow, I found even more respect for him. He had passed through the Gate at least six times, if my count was correct, and he had somehow stayed sane throughout every ordeal. More than sane, in fact. Every time he had gone through the Gate, he had come out with more knowledge, more wisdom.

With this in mind to comfort me, I relaxed. I grasped his hand, squeezed it gently, and was rewarded by a slight smile before I lost consciousness.

* * *

**A/N:** So, how was it? I won't beg for reviews (I have _some_ pride!), but they would be greatly appreciated. For those of you reading my other story, I'll try to update soon, but I've been working on this one for a while and just _had_ to post it. Hopefully that means that I'll be able to get over my writer's block. Hopefully. 

I know that Ed might seem a little OOC, but he just lost his brother. Think about it. In the series, he always seems to care for his brother more than he cares for himself, so he would be rather emotional, don't you think?


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: ** Okaaayyy... Not many reviews on this. It makes me very sad. I want more this time. At least five. I know that most of the people reading this read both of the previous chapters, so I assume that they enjoy it. That's about the only reason I posted this.

* * *

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was confused. Very confused. He had woken that morning after a particularly weird dream concerning fire, metal, and a gate. He couldn't remember exactly what the dream was, but he had a feeling that it was important. 

He was sitting in a chair by his bedroom window; he had been for the best part of four hours. He had finally fallen asleep, only to wake because of the bizarre dream. In his hand was a letter from one Albus Dumbledore.

_Dear Harry, _it read,

_If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven P.M. to escort you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays._

_Thank you once again for you assistance in convincing Professor Slughorn to teach at Hogwarts this coming year; without your assistance, he undoubtedly would have refused._

_Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday,_

_I am, yours most sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Harry had, of course, sent back a "yes" immediately after receiving the letter. However, it was now 11:10 on the appointed night, and Dumbledore had yet to show up.

Suddenly, the streetlamp outside Harry's window went out. He smiled, knowing who was coming, recognizing the figure strolling up the front walk.

He hastily threw all of his belongings into his trunk, waking his owl Hedwig as he did so, and rushed downstairs to greet the Headmaster.

When Aunt Petunia answered the door, the look on her face was priceless as she recognized the man who had taught her sister, delivered Harry, bombarded them with mail, and sent her a Howler. She went white, her eyes became the approximate size of dinner plates, and her mouth was opening and closing silently as she backed up nervously.

Dumbledore smiled and said, "Judging by your reaction, I would say that Harry did not tell you of my coming? No matter. Shall we assume you have invited me in?" He stepped over the threshold and looked at Harry.

"Professor!" exclaimed Harry.

"I do apologize for being late, but there was a slight problem that I had to assist with. I also apologize for rushing you, but, due to circumstances concerning said problem, it is necessary to leave immediately. Please fetch your belongings."

Harry ran to fetch his trunk and Hedwig. When he returned to the living room, Dudley and Aunt Petunia were partially comatose; Uncle Vernon was completely unconscious.

"Ah, Harry!" greeted the Professor. "I was just explaining to your relatives that you will be staying with the Weasleys for the remainder of the summer. Oh, and that the Ministry broke down and is being completely reorganized. Shall we?" As he pointed toward the fireplace, his sleeve fell back, revealing a blackened hand.

"Professor, what happened to your hand?" asked Harry.

"Now is neither the time, nor the place, Harry. I will tell you eventually, but not now. Please go ahead. The Floo powder is on the mantlepiece. I will see you later this summer."

Harry stepped into the flames with his belingings and clearly stated, "The Burrow." A few moments later, he stepped out of an entirely different fireplace and into absolute chaos.

* * *

Ed saw, as he stepped out of the Gate, an unconscious Roy falling behind him, and a group of people pointing sticks at him and gaping. He started to take a step, but nearly fell. He was bleeding profusely in a number of places; the Gate had not been gentle. After what seemed like minutes of enduring those stares, he succumbed to the effects of blood loss and fainted.

* * *

These… people… seemed to materialize from nowhere. The blonde looked around dazedly, then fell unconscious, bleeding on the floor. Throughout the unfolding drama, Harry's arrival went unnoticed. 

"Shouldn't we help them?" he asked, since everyone was standing completely still and staring.

His words prompted an explosion of action, with people fetching bandages and researching obscure medical spells. The blonde was carted off immediately, then the black-haired man a few moments later.

As Mrs. Weasley bent down to pick up the second newcomer, a scream sounded from upstairs. When Harry entered the room, Fleur was shrieking and cowering in the corner. The blonde's shirt was pulled half off, and a faint glisten of metal shone underneath the edge.

"Look at 'is arm!" she shrieked, pointing. When Harry drew back the shirt in compliance, he found a completely metal arm.

"No wonder he was so heavy," muttered Bill. "Tiny little thing."

At the same time, Mrs. Weasley was sobbing. "Oh my… The poor child!"

At this, golden eyes opened slightly and the young man tried to speak. "Who… calling… short… quark?"

"Hush, dear," cried Mrs. Weasley. "It's alright."

The boy tried to sit up in panic. "Where's Roy?" he cried. "Where is he?" He struggled against the arms that were attempting to hold him down, and nearly succeeded in freeing himself before collapsing with a cry of pain.

"Don't worry. He's fine, and with us as well."

"Thanks…" he said. A long pause followed, and everybody realized that he had fallen unconscious again.

* * *

Ron and Hermione had returned from the library the previous evening and had been delighted that Harry had arrived. Currently, they were all sitting by the dark-haired man's bedside and discussing various topics- why the strangers were there, for example. 

"Honestly, Ron. Why do you suddenly believe that everyone's a Death Eater?" asked Hermione. "Why would anyone put themselves through _that-_" here she gestured at the man's various wounds "-just to hurt the Weasleys?"

Ron turned bright red. "I dunno. Maybe they heard that Harry was here!"

"Ron, _we_ didn't know."

There was a long pause before Harry interrupted. "Um, you guys? The man's starting to wake up."

Sure enough, Roy was slowly regaining consciousness. He tried to sit up, but fell back; his head _hurt_. He noticed several teenagers sitting by him, and wondered what they were doing there.

"How are you feeling?" asked the girl.

Roy frowned. The language… English, right? "Fine… Where's Ed?"

"Your friend? Don't worry. He's here and doing fine. My name is Hermione Granger, by the way. This is Ron, and this is Harry. We're at Ron's house right now. Can you tell me your name?"

"It's Roy Mustang."

Ron snorted and began holding in fits of laughter until Hermione glared at him. "What about your friend's name?"

"Edward Elric."

"Where are you from?"

"Central, in Amestris."

"I hate to interrogate you like this, but why are you here?"

Roy remembered most of the details about how they arrived there, at least up to the Gate, but he didn't quite trust these people, so he took the easy way out. "I don't know for sure. I don't even know where here is. Can I see Ed?"

Hermione frowned at the sudden change of topic. "I suppose," she said. "Do you feel well enough to get up?"

"Sure," said Roy. He slowly slid out of bed, grimacing as the motion caused waves of pain to roll through his head. On the way out of the room, he collided with a plump, red-haired woman.

"Oh, dear," she said. "You shouldn't be up yet! And look at you! You're skin and bones! Just get back in bed and I'll fetch you something to eat."

"Ma'am?" asked Roy weakly. "I just want to see Ed."

"Your friend? The one with the blonde hair?" Roy suppressed an urge to roll his eyes at this point. Who else would it be? "Well… I suppose that would be alright. Come on, I'll show you where."

She led the way down a flight of stairs and a hallway before turning to a door on the left. Sure enough, when she opened the door a blonde shrimp was laying on the bed.

"Now, dear, don't disturb him, and don't hesitate to come downstairs for food, okay? Oh- I nearly forgot to ask. What's your name, dear?"

"Roy Mustang. And the shrimp's is Edward Elric."

"Okay, dear. Like I said, come down to eat something."

_Crazy woman,_ thought Roy. _Why'd she ask my mane if she's just going to keep calling me 'dear'?_ He turned toward the chair and sat down. Staring down at Ed, he realized something. The boy meant more to him than anybody else did. Ed was his world. He smiled before laying his head down on the bed and falling asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Roy stumbled downstairs, still yawning, to find Mrs. Weasley cooking and everyone else (Ron, Hermione, Fleur, Ginny, Bill, and Harry) eating breakfast. His arrival was met with an awkward silence. 

"Hello. I don't believe I've met all of you," he said smoothly, his internal diplomat taking temporary control of his mouth. "My name is Roy Mustang. Yours are?"

"I'm Mrs. Weasley, or Molly to you. Ron's mother?" she said, pointing to the redheaded boy.

"Fleur Delacour. 'Tis an 'onor, sir."

"Bill Weasley."

"Ginny Weasley. You've met my brother Ron and his friends, correct?"

"Correct." Roy was acutely aware of the girls' eyes on him. _Am I just that good in uniform?_ he wondered as he looked down at himself. Then he realized that he was only wearing a thin white tank top and his normal pants- no jacket, and his shirt was so ripped that he could have taken it off without exposing much more skin. Still, he eased himself into the empty chair by Gary, or whatever his name was, picking up the newspaper that was lying on the table. He felt indecent, and would have felt completely naked if he hadn't had his gloves on. Speaking of which…

"Mr. Mustang? Why do you wear those gloves?" asked Hermione. "It's not cold in here, and even if it was, your gloves wouldn't do much with your shirt in the state it's in."

"They…" Damn. How to answer this… "They provide a sense of normalcy. They're comforting," he added for Ron's benefit.

"I suppose that makes sense. Though if you'd like, you could describe or draw your old clothes and we'd be happy to make some for you."

"But that would take you _hours_!"

Hermione looked at him oddly. "No, Mr. Mustang, it would only take a few seconds."

"I'll see if I can draw them for you after breakfast, then." He looked back down at his newspaper. "Holy shit, that picture's moving!" he yelled, falling backwards in his haste to get away from the table. He found himself on the floor with everybody staring at him, and realized that he had lost his composure in a _major_ way. As he picked himself (and the chair) up, a light blush found its way onto his cheeks.

"Mr. Mustang-" began Mrs. Weasley.

"Roy will suffice, ma'am."

"Roy then. Do you believe in magic?"

Such an innocent question, yet Roy was having a difficult time preventing himself from falling over in laughter. Barely, he managed to retain his calm façade.

"Not in the least, ma'am," he replied. And then he lost it. After what seemed like five minutes of nonstop laughing, he finally calmed down enough to wipe the tears from his eyes and stutter, "Magic?"

The upcoming demonstration- likely to be a painful one, as Ginny looked rather annoyed- was cut short by a cry from upstairs that sounded like "Alphonse!"

"Excuse me," said Roy quickly. "I think that's Ed."

He ran upstairs, nearly falling over for the second time that morning in his haste to reach Ed. He was so worried, in fact, that he failed to notice the "Golden Trio" following him up the stairs. When he finally reached Ed, he shook him in an attempt to wake him. Ed's golden eyes flew open. He bolted upright, then collapsed onto Roy, sobbing. 'I… I killed them, Roy. It was my fault. It was all my fault!'

Roy stroked the smooth golden hair soothingly. 'It's okay, Ed. It's not your fault.' He pulled Ed closer, then cradled the golden head against his chest. Light coming in from the window reflected off Ed's hair, creating a golden halo to surround him. Tears were running down Ed's cheeks, soaking the remnants of Roy's shirt. Making comforting sounds, Roy finally noticed the teenagers standing in the doorway. He- quite literally- growled.

"Just _what _are _you_ doing here? This is none of your business. Get out."

"But-" began Hermione.

"Out. _Now_."

"You can't talk to Hermione that way! And this is my house!" protested Ron.

Roy's eye twitched. Then he snapped, and the entire room seemed to dissolve in flame.

* * *

**A/N: **How was it? As I said, I want at least five reviews for this chapter. I have around forty pages of this story already written, so the rate of posting depends solely on the rate of reviews. On a happier note, I want to thank the three people who reviewed the last post. THANK YOU!!! 

Here, I'll even give you some choices for reviews that you only have to copy and paste.

1. You suck. 2. You're okay... 3. A little OOC, but otherwise good. 4.Update soon! I'm enjoying this! 5. You're awesome!

If I get any "You're awesome" reviews, then I'll be really surprised, and I'll probably update faster. Of course, I'll update faster when people give me original reviews, too... Or any reviews, really...


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I'm so happy! I got a ton of reviews (sort of), so I decided to type this up and post it. It took _forever_ to type. I hope you appreciate it. I realized that I forgot to put a disclaimer on anything else I typed, so... ummm... This one applies to every fanfic I've written thus far. Which is all of two of them.  
Oh! 'Speech' is in Ed and Roy's native language. "Speech" is in English. Nearly forgot that... Hehe.**  
Disclaimer:** Would you believe me if I told you I did own Fullmetal Alchemist and Harry Potter? No? Good. 'Cause I don't. Pity...

* * *

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Ron, after the trio had shut the door and run from the room. "He's bloody mad! My house is on fire! Help!"

Meanwhile, Hermione was also in hysterics. "What _was_ that? He had no wand! Where was his wand?" she repeated.

Harry, on the other hand, was thinking about the expression on Edward's face. He recognized it because it was a similar expression to the one he wore after his nightmares. It was similar, but much more intense. But if seeing his mother murdered by Voldemort wasn't as bad as what the blonde had seen, then Harry wasn't sure that he wanted to know what exactly the nightmares were about.

Another odd thing he noticed… "Guys, what language were they speaking?"

"Well, English of-" began Hermione. She paused and thought for a moment before finally admitting, "I don't know. I've never heard anything like it before."

"Hello! He's burning my house down!" interrupted Ron. He was ignored, so he sat down, peeved.

Fred and George apparated onto the landing. "Extendable-" began George (or Fred).

"-Ears, anyone?" finished Fred (or George).

"Do you have any that translate other languages into English?" asked Hermione.

"They all do," answered one.

"We found that out by listening to some weird conversation the adults were having, over at Sirius' old place," continued the other.

"It was in Latin, or something, but we could hear it clear as day," finished the first.

The trio smiled.

At first they heard nothing but sobbing and muffled cries of "I killed them! It's all my fault!" Later, the conversation was rather unusual. 

"Roy."

"Yes?"

"What was the Gate, to you?" Here Harry and Ron looked at Hermione for explanation of this 'Gate' thing, but she simply shrugged and began eavesdropping again.

"I'm not sure I understand," said Roy.

"If there was one word you had to use to describe it, what would it be?"

Silence, for a moment, followed by, "Hell. But all I remember of the inside of the Gate is pain." More silence.

"Roy?"

"Yes?"

"Why? Why didn't you just let me die?"

"Because I didn't want to lose you. It wasn't your fault. It was Envy's. I know, you're going to say that it was you who took Al there, but he _chose_ to go with you. You never dragged him into it."

"I'm sorry, Roy," Ed whispered. "I couldn't let him die like that. I just couldn't."

"It's okay, Ed. I don't blame you, and I'm sure Al doesn't, either. He might be a little annoyed that he has to drag your sorry ass to the right side of the Gate,_ again_, but he doesn't blame you. Come on, let's get you some breakfast." At this, the trio listening in hastily withdrew the extendable ears and backed away, but not quickly enough.

* * *

The door opened, and Ed and Roy stepped out, only to nearly trip over a pile of confused teenagers. It was obvious they had been listening to the conversation. Ed's eyes went cold, and he began interrogating them without mercy. Roy quickly interrupted, and pointed out that these people spoke English.

Ed glared at him before continuing. "Is there any particular _reason_ why you decided that the basic rules of hospitality and respecting your guests' privacy don't apply here?"

"How else are we supposed to know if we can trust you?" retorted Hermione. "We're at war here, you know."

Ed raised an eyebrow. "How would we know that? We, or at least I, have been unconscious. It's not like we've been up and reading the newspaper. Besides, our country is at war, too. Do you have anything to eat?"

Hermione was still a little off balance from having her logic (or lack thereof) contested, so Ron answered for her. "Sure, mate, downstairs. Just make sure that nobody tries to burn my house down again!"

Hermione was blushing as she followed everyone else downstairs.

* * *

When the blonde –Edward?– came out of his room, he was so beautiful! It's not fair for any one person, male or female, to look that good when they've been unconscious for the past few days! He was wearing tight black pants and a loose white shirt. The shirt was ripped to pieces, and I soon realized that I was trying to peek at the muscles that lay underneath. I blushed. I made myself look like a total idiot, I know it. Stupid puberty.

Still, he looked a little angelic. His hair was sort of a dirty gold, his skin was rather pale, and his eyes looked tired, but there was no disguising what lay beneath the travel-weary exterior. His hair, once clean, would be the same bright gold as his eyes. He should have a fairly smooth complexion, rather tan, and his lips… God, his lips are almost _too_ red for a boy. Almost, but not quite.

Unfortunately, he belonged to someone else. With the way Roy was standing behind him, it was obvious that Roy wouldn't allow anything to happen. I wonder what the relationship between those two is… A shame- Ed was an angel, without doubt. But he was claimed.

* * *

Mrs. Weasley turned away from the stove as she heard footsteps coming down the lower flight of stairs, curious to see who it was. She knew that the trio had probably eavesdropped on something they shouldn't have, and she was curious as to what, but she was concerned about their guests' reactions. So when the strange blonde strode down the stairs and proceeded to speak quite civilly to her, she was rather surprised.

"Excuse me," he said, stumbling over the unfamiliar words ever so slightly. He held out a hand –his left hand– and smiled. "I'm Edward Elric. Could I trouble you for a bit of breakfast?"

Mrs. Weasley was charmed. She took his hand and shook it before replying, "Molly Weasley. And of course, you can _always_ get some food, especially with how thin you are. You're even thinner than that friend of yours, and he's skin and bones! When was the last time you ate, dear?"

"Depends. How long have I been here?"

"Three days, dear."

"Then I last ate a week ago."

"What?! No wonder you're so skinny! Why on Earth haven't you been eating? You'll starve to death! You-"

Unnoticed by Mrs. Weasley, who was still ranting about how Ed needed to eat more, the trio and Roy slipped into the kitchen. Roy took a seat next to Ed and squeezed his hand. Ed smiled uncertainly at him before turning his attention back to the redhead rushing around the cluttered kitchen.

Hermione finally summoned the courage to ask, "Mr. Mustang? How did you create those flames without a wand?"

"Wand?" interrupted Ed. "Why the hell would he need a wand? Is he supposed to be performing some sort of magic trick?"

"Do you believe in magic, Mr. Elric?"

"Hell, no! Are you crazy? We're scientists, not storytellers!"

"But-"

"But what?"

"_Petrificus totalus!_" she snapped, pulling out a stick of some sort and waving it at him.

Ed felt his body tense, then snap into a rigid, straight position. His legs were glued together, straight out in front of him, and his arms sere stiff at his sides. The only part of his body that he could move was his head. He would have fallen off the chair if Roy hadn't caught him.

Hermione sniffed, still annoyed, before releasing him from the spell.

"Where is the equivalence?" asked Ed, who had gone deathly pale. "Even the Gate has its boundaries, so why don't they?"

Roy cradled him against his chest, trying to comfort him. "It's alright, Ed. Different rules apply here, that's all. Perhaps they have an internal energy source, so they don't have to draw the circles. You don't, after all. They just have different rules."

Although he still looked shaken, Ed nearly attacked the plate of eggs, toast, and bacon that Mrs. Weasley set in front of him. Indeed, Hermione noticed, he ate even faster than Ron did, but he was much neater about it.

After he finished eating, the trio took the opportunity to interrogate him. Most were harmless questions, asking how he was feeling, but Ron eventually gave in to temptation.

"Why are you here? You're from –whazzit? – Armistice, right?"

"Amestris."

"Yeah, that. How'd you get here?"

"That," said Ed frostily, "is none of your business."

"We have to know," interrupted Hermione. "Otherwise, we can't trust you."

"Trust. What a trivial thing you hold on to. Fine," he spat. "Not that you'll believe me. There's a portal between our worlds called the Gate of Truth. Its operating principal is equivalent exchange: to obtain, something of equal value must be lost. We were sent here as equivalent exchange for something. It's a punishment."

"You think it's so awful for you, don't you?" asked Harry. "Have you ever stopped to consider that it's as hard for you friend there as it is for you? What about you r family? Your friends? And-"

He was interrupted by Ed's hand slamming down on the table hard enough to dent it. The blonde's head was lowered, and there seemed to be tears on his cheeks. Those few tears fell to the table as the pushed his chair away from the table and stalked upstairs.

"It's a lot harder for him than you might think," said Roy. "It's certainly harder for him than it is for me." He pushed away from the table and ran after Ed.

The trio was left there, staring at each other. The silence stretched on for what seemed like hours, until Hermione finally saw fit to interrupt it.

"Harry, you should go apologize. I know you have firsthand experience in detrimental self-pity, but circumstances are different for him. Wouldn't you be lost and confused if you were suddenly in _his _world?" asked Hermione.

"I guess," Harry replied, though he had no intention of apologizing. He simply wanted information on Ed's prosthetic arm. He hadn't yet shared the fact that the arm was metal with his friends, and he had no idea why. Perhaps it was some sudden urge to respect people's privacy? Unlikely, though possible, he supposed.

He stood and began walking to the foreigners' current room.

* * *

Roy stood in the doorway of Ed's room, simply watching Ed stare out the window. The sunlight made the younger man's hair gleam, and his face was surprisingly relaxed. His mind was obviously drifting a million miles away.

"Edward," he began.

'You want to know about my experience on the other side of the Gate, right?' was the reply in their native tongue.

'Yes.'

'There wasn't any alchemy, Roy. None at all.' He looked at his hands. 'Judging from your little display earlier, there is here.'

A slight smile appeared on Roy's lips as he thought back to the teenagers running from his flames. That smile widened as he entertained a brief fantasy of roasting the redheaded one. 'Obviously.'

'The weird thing is, though… I spent years over there before you brought me back. Years, but my body didn't age; only my spirit did. So, in body, I'm seventeen. In spirit, though, I think I'm twenty-two.'

'Five years? That's a long time.'

There was a long silence before Ed spoke again. 'Roy, what did you give?'

'Pardon me?'

'What did you give as equivalent exchange to get me back?'

'Nothing. The Gate brought Envy back, which is a punishment of sorts, but it said something about debt.'

'That doesn't sound good.'

'No, it doesn't. I'm guessing that this is part of the debt.' He gestured at their surroundings. 'Also, the Gate never gave me the truth, so I still have to use a circle to transmute. That may be part of the punishment- having to go through Hell with nothing to show for it is rather painful.'

'Roy?'

'Yes?'

'Do you hate me?'

Roy was shocked and annoyed that Ed would think such a thing. 'No!' he exclaimed. 'I could never hate you!'

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door frame by a black-haired teenager.

"Come in," called Ed, not paying any attention to who it was.

Harry stepped gingerly into the room; it was a disaster area. The blonde had obviously been rather upset earlier, since half of the room was trashed. Harry felt a slight twinge of guilt at how he had made the blonde feel, but he quickly stomped on it.

"I want to ask about your metal arm," he stated firmly.

Ed nearly fell over. This was an unexpected conversation topic. He didn't remember showing anyone his automail recently… Oh, yeah. When he was called short by the redheaded woman and her son.

"Who else knows?" he asked suspiciously. "Obviously you, Mrs. Weasley, and her older son, but who else?"

"Just us and Fleur- the one who saw it first."

That also took Ed by surprise. Harry seemed like the sort of person who would tell his friends everything. In return, though… Damn equivalent exchange.

"What do you want to know?" he asked resignedly.

"Everything. But first off, can I see it?"

Ed sighed and pulled his shirt off. Harry found himself openly staring in awe at both the arm and the numerous scars this boy had acquired. There were many scars around the arm, several long, thin ones across his chest, and some recently acquired ones over his heart and stomach. Also, there were numerous scrapes covering his entire body, obviously from just a few days before, when he had suddenly appeared in the Weasleys' living room.

Another thing that Harry found himself in awe of was how incredibly well-muscled this boy was. Every miniscule move he made had muscles stretched taut against his skin, and there wasn't an ounce of fat on him. Hermione and Ginny would have loved to see this…

Roy also found himself staring. When he noticed what he was doing, he immediately blushed, but he didn't turn away.

"So," began Harry. "How does it work? It's metal, right? It shouldn't be able to move properly without magic, and you don't seem to have encountered magic before. And what is it? Armor?"

"No. It's automail- a prosthetic arm. It runs off the electricity generated by the human body. The conductors are connected to the nerves in my arm and amplify the signal to get my arm to move."

"Okay…" Harry wasn't even going to pretend that he understood that. "How did you get it?"

"I paid for the surgery."

Harry slapped himself on the forehead. He should have anticipated an answer like that one. The blonde obviously didn't want to say any more than he had to. "Let me rephrase that. How did you lose your original arm?"

The blonde seemed to hesitate before he answered. "I lost it in the war."

"But those scars are so _old_! You said that the war's still going on!"

Ed glared at him. "Different war. Our country just got out of a series of civil wars around a year ago, and more recently there have been a few attacks by a nearby country called Drachma, as well as a few by Germany through the Gate."

"Civil wars?"

"That's right. For years, the Fuhrer was dragging us into meaningless wars both in and out of our country. I was only a toddler when the first massacres occurred."

"Massacres?"

"That's right." Ed refused to elaborate. He was thinking of the incident in Liore, where thousands of soldiers had died to create the Philosopher's Stone, in the form of his brother. "Anything else?"

"Actually, I was wondering, Mr. Mustang, how you created those flames."

"The material my gloves are made of creates a spark when I snap, and the circle on the back of the glove allows me to manipulate the level of oxygen in the air," stated Roy blandly.

Harry looked confused, so Ed sighed and explained."It's a type of alchemy. Since oxygen is flammable, high concentrations of oxygen in the air surrounding a spark are going to produce flames."

"Can you do alchemy too, Ed?" asked Harry.

"Nope," he replied while glaring at Roy to keep him quiet. "I wish."

"Well, thanks," said Harry as the turned and left the room, sensing a sudden chill in the air. He felt like there was something that those two weren't telling him, but he supposed that it was rather gracious of them to explain anything at all. He doubted that he would have been so forthcoming with details of _his_ life, especially painful ones, which he had an abundance of. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a call from Ed.

"Please don't tell anyone!"

He paused just long enough to listen before going downstairs.

* * *

Later that day, Arthur Weasley returned home. He was less than pleased that his wife didn't adhere to the Ministry's rules that people had to confirm the identity of people on the other side of the door. He was downright _livid_ that there were two strangers living in his house.

Roy and Ed sat, staring at each other and listening to the argument in the kitchen, for over an hour. During that time, they heard screaming, glass breaking, sirens, frying pans hitting the floor, and a cat yowling. Finally, an irate (but subdued) Mr. Weasley walked out to the living room where Ed and Roy were sitting.

Mr. Weasley collapsed onto the sofa opposite the two strangers. The black-haired one seemed tired, formal, and haunted by memories. The young blonde, oddly, seemed even worse. He looked tired, gaunt, and troubled, and his eyes seemed far too old for his body. Struggling, Mr. Weasley attempted to begin a conversation and be, as his wife had put it, "open-minded enough that you don't immediately and for no reason jump to the conclusion that those two are working for You-Know-Who just because we haven't met them before."

"So… Where are you two from?" he finally asked, fidgeting slightly at how young and idiotic his question made him sound.

"Amestris," replied the blonde.

He had never heard of it. "What are your names?"

"This is General Roy Mustang, and I am Major Edward Elric." Roy looked at Ed in annoyance, then relented as soon as he saw how tired and nervous the blonde was.

"General? Major? You were in the army?"

"Correct, sir."

"I can believe it of your silent friend, there, but you are too young to be in the army. You can't be any older than fourteen, for crying out loud!"

"I am _seventeen_, for your information, and I joined the army at twelve."

"What the hell is wrong with you people? Twelve-year-olds joining the army? You honestly think I would believe that pile of crap?"

In answer, the blonde began pulling off his shirt. Mr. Weasley nearly fell off the sofa when he saw the hundreds of scars running across the boy's chest, and –even worse– the metal arm.

Sighing, the boy pulled his shirt back on.

"Now do you believe us?" asked the black-haired man –Roy?– resignedly. "We haven't mentioned being in the army to anyone else, but I believe that the stress is getting to Fullmetal." He winced as soon as he realized what he had said.

"Fullmetal?"

"The shrimp's nickname." Roy was almost hoping to see Ed explode at that point, as it would have meant that he was feeling better, but he stayed silent instead. Roy frowned. If Ed wasn't reacting to such an obvious insult to his height, then there was something seriously wrong with him. "State Alchemists –alchemists in the employment of the State military– are given nicknames describing either their talent in alchemy or a characteristic of that alchemist. His is Fullmetal. Mine is Flame."

"Ah," said Mr. Weasley, seeming at a loss for words. "Excuse me." He stood and walked to the kitchen.

A moment later, they heard two faint popping sounds, and Mr. Weasley walked back out, this time accompanied by an elderly man in a lavender cloak.

"Now, Arthur, what's all this fuss about? I told you there would be something unexpected waiting for you when you arrived," he was saying.

"But Dumbledore, we know nothing about them! Practically everything they've told us about themselves is untrue; it has to be! They claim that they are both alchemists, in the military, and that the younger one joined the military when he was twelve! And to top it all off, he has a metal arm!"

Ed raised an eyebrow; the man was close to hysterics. "Is something wrong?" he asked coolly, smirking. Damn, the bastard was rubbing off on him.

The redhead looked like he was about to explode. Just then, Ron walked into the room, took one look at his father, and walked right back out.

Dumbledore smiled. "Mr. Elric, it's good to see you back on your feet. You too, Mr. Mustang. I take it that the Weasleys have been good to you?" He allowed them a brief moment to nod before continuing. "I also believe that you have been introduced to the realm of magic, or you would be more surprised by my appearing out of nowhere. Tell me, would you like to learn magic?"

"Of course!" exclaimed Ed, wearing his patented are-you-crazy-or-just-stupid expression. "Who wouldn't?"

"You'd be surprised," answered Dumbledore. "Now, I happen to be the headmaster of a rather prestigious school for magic. If you'd like, you may both attend-"

"Dumbledore!" protested Mr. Weasley. "I really don't think…"

"Now, Arthur," interrupted Dumbledore. "Even _if_ they were agents of Voldemort, what could they do under my nose?"

At this, Ed almost literally saw the redhead deflate.

"Mr. Elric, you would probably be placed in the sixth year; we don't want you to have your first year be your last, now, do we? I don't believe that Mr. Mustang is too happy with the prospect of going to school." The old man's eyes were twinkling. "It's alright; I am not forcing you to attend. And Mr. Elric, I could escort you to buy the necessary supplies. I could do that tomorrow, in fact, if you feel up to it. Don't worry, I would be happy to pay."

"In that case, is there anything we can do to pay you back?"

"I was just getting to that. I hear you are both alchemists. Would you mind giving me a small demonstration?"

Roy shrugged and snapped, setting the end of the old man's beard on fire. If he was hoping for an amusing reaction, however, he was sorely disappointed. Dumbledore merely smiled and put out his beard with a whispered _'Aguamenti'_.

"Would you both consider teaching alchemy to some of the older students next year? It would only be a part-time job, and you would be well paid. I'll just take out a little of your pay to cover the supplies for Mr. Elric."

"Could be amusing. Is there much paperwork?" asked Roy. Ed elbowed him.

"Nowhere as much as you would get in the military, I'm sure."

"Great, then. We'll discuss details later?" asked Ed.

"Of course. I will see you tomorrow, then." With that said, he nodded to Mr. Weasley and disappeared. Ed and Roy stared.

"That was something else, eh, bastard?"

"Quite, shrimp."

* * *

**A/N:** So? How was it? Remember, reviews inspire me to post much faster! And honestly, I gave you... Oh, yes! Eleven pages. Can you give me eleven words? Or five words? Wow... sounds almost like I'm begging. I'm not. I don't beg. I'm just using logic... I'll shut up now. (Ignores cheering.) 


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: **I updated! Wheee!! Umm... not much else to say except that I want more reviews for this chapter and each of the following ones... I'm trying to increase the # of reviews each time. Also, I'm sorry that this happens to be one of the less exciting chapters. cries

Also, a few more relevant notes. "Normal speech." 'Ed and Roy talking in their native language.' ((Flashback.))

**Disclaimer:** (How many times have I forgotten to do this?) I don't own FMA, Harry Potter, or A Brief History of Time. I am not Himoru Arakawa, J. K. Rowling, or Stephen Hawking. Pity. I'd be a lot smarter and/or richer.

* * *

The next morning arrived to find an extremely tired group of people. Ed had been screaming in his sleep and crying as he apologized to his dead mother. The repetitive screaming led to short-tempered, though sympathetic, wizards, a depressed Roy, and an unusually pale and quiet Ed. Breakfast (which consisted of eggs, bacon, toast, and hash browns) was a silent affair.

Ed had used some borrowed cloth to create the two main outfits that he had usually worn since returning from beyond the Gate. When he was on duty (though he still had no idea why he had stayed in the military), he generally wore black combat boots, tight black pants, a black tank top, and a black, knee-length jacket with the symbol of a snake twining around a cross on the back in red. He had changed from a red jacket to the black one when he had finally figured out that red was just too damn easy to shoot at.

When he was off duty, he changed to a plain, white, collared shirt, a brown vest, brown pants, and sturdy brown boots, similar to what he had worn in Germany.

Today he had decided to wear the plainer outfit, though he still kept his pocket watch handy. For some reason, both he and Roy had arrived clutching their respective watches.

Roy had also made some clothes for himself, although Ed had yet to see them. However, Roy had come downstairs wearing simple black pants, a white shirt, and a black jacket with silver trim.

Not really interested in eating, Ed played with his eggs until Dumbledore arrived. At that time, he grabbed Roy and dragged him to the elderly man.

"My, my. You seem rather tired," remarked Dumbledore as he pulled a small jar out of his fuchsia robe.

"Nightmares," grunted Ed.

Dumbledore looked at him curiously, knowing he was hiding something, but said nothing on the subject. "Now, I don't believe that you've ever traveled by Floo powder before? Well, to use it, you throw the powder into the fire, like so. Then step in and say the name of the place that you wish to travel to, in this case the Leaky Cauldron. Be sure to say the name _very_ clearly." He thought back to the time when Harry said 'diagonally' by mistake and chuckled. "Mr. Mustang will go first, then myself, then you, Mr. Elric."

Roy stepped into the emerald-green flames without so much as blinking, saying, "The Leaky Cauldron." In a moment, he was no longer there.

Dumbledore followed, ignoring Ed's gaping. Ed, after a slight hesitation, followed as well. He came out in a well-lit bar whose patrons seemed quite content to ignore the newcomers, returning to stirring their drinks without touching them, reading newspapers with moving pictures, and that sort of thing. Ed felt like fainting, but Roy maintained a calm façade, saying that he had used up his surprise for the week, perhaps the next month.

"Dumbledore!" cried the barkeep. "It's great to see you sir! Can I get you anything?"

"Perhaps a small firewhisky, thank you, Tom."

"What about these two young men?"

"A dry gin, if you have one," replied Roy.

Tom nodded. "And for you, young man?"

"Merlot." Ed met Roy's surprised look with a steady one of his own. He had started drinking in Germany, though only wine in small amounts. He had tried a few other alcoholic drinks, and none of them seemed to taste like anything much, and they seemed to leave him with some rather unpleasant side effects.

The barkeep gave him an odd look, but shrugged and gave him the drink when Dumbledore nodded.

While sipping his wine, Ed swirled the liquid in his glass and thought back to his time in Germany, including his first experiments with drinking.

* * *

(( "Come on, Ed!" called Alfons happily. "This is the best bar in town, and they're having a special tonight! Come on!" 

Ed followed, somewhat reluctantly. "It's just alcohol. There's not much good about it, and I've seen firsthand what it can do to people…" He thought about Roy sitting in his office and drinking.

"It isn't just _alcohol_, Ed. This stuff is the best! You just _have_ to try their wine; it's the best in all of Germany!"

Alfons pulled him into a tiny bar that he would never have noticed from the street without a guide. They sat at a tiny table and Alfons summoned a waitress. The waitress had mousy brown hair and was attempting to read with one hand while balancing a tray on the other.

"Hi, I'm Sciezka, and I'll be serving you tonight," she said absently. "What can I get you?"

"A merlot and a champagne," replied Alfons immediately. They waited for a few minutes, talking of innocent things concerning rocketry, while waiting for the drinks. When they finally arrived, Ed was hesitant to take a sip. The merlot, for some reason, reminded him of blood.

Alfons noticed his hesitation and offered him the champagne. He took a gulp, then laughed, spraying it over his friend.

"That tickles!" he said, trying to stop laughing. "I think some went up my nose!"

Alfons laughed at him, then proceeded to wipe himself off. "So, Ed, still want to stick with the champagne?"

Ed quickly shook his head. He reached out and slowly brought the red wine to his lips, then took a small sip. His eyes widened. "That's good!" he exclaimed.

"I told you so."

Later that night, Ed was truly and deeply drunk. It made him admit things that he'd sworn not to tell anyone in Germany. "Alfons? Have I ever told you about my life before this?" he slurred.

"No," admitted Alfons curiously.

"My story starts when my mother died…"

The next morning, Ed woke up with an awful hangover. He sat up in bed, but Alfons pushed him back down.

"You know, you're an amazing storyteller when you're drunk."))

* * *

Half an hour or so later, after they finished their drinks, Dumbledore led Ed and Roy out the back of the small bar. Ed didn't even bat an eyelash as the brick wall moved to form an archway. _Perhaps there _is_ something to Roy's idea of a finite amount of surprise,_ he thought. _I may have to research that. Or maybe it's just the alcohol…_

Suddenly, he was engulfed by an enormous variety of people, colors, and sounds. There were literally hundreds of people packed into the alley, wearing cloaks of every design and color imaginable. There were shops with brightly colored candies, a shop with various pets, several bookstores, two clothing stores, and a wand store all packed into a narrow area, not to mention a few small restaurants.

"Come on," said Dumbledore, pointing to the wand shop. A rusty sign on the front proclaimed that it was called Ollivanders', and that it was established in 382 B.C.

Inside, the shop was dusty and ill-lit. An old man with grey hair approached, greeting Dumbledore briefly before settling down to business.

"Edward Elric and Roy Mustang, correct? Well, Mr. Elric, if you would be so kind as to have a seat while I deal with Mr. Mustang?" he stated more than asked, pointing to a couple of chairs in a corner where Dumbledore was already making himself comfortable.

Ed walked over, looking oddly at the seat. It was covered in about an inch of dust. He sighed, then brushed it off before sitting down, the dust causing him to sneeze repeatedly.

"Mr. Mustang, please hold out your wand arm," said Mr. Ollivander.

Roy held out his left arm, feeling ridiculous. A tape measure flew at him and began measuring his every feature, including the length between his nostrils. Mr. Olivander, after a few minutes, looked at it sternly and it fell to the floor.

"Try this," he said, handing Roy a wand. "Thirteen inches, maple with a unicorn hair."

Roy waved it, dousing Mr. Ollivander in seawater.

"Apparently not," he said carefully, spitting out a piece of kelp. "Try this. Twelve inches, pine with ashes."

This time, a desk exploded.

Two hours later, after setting the shop on fire, turning a goldfish bowl into a giant marshmallow, causing everyone's clothes to disappear, and various other disasters, Roy finally received a wand. It was fourteen inches long, made from blood wood and ash with cloth from a dementor's robe for a core. Finally, it was Ed's turn.

Ed held out his left arm, since he rarely used his right arm for delicate work like writing; he couldn't make small movements very well. Mr. Ollivander frowned, sensing that there was something wrong, but handed him a wand anyway. "This one is twelve inches, maple, and has a phoenix feather core. It's particularly good for transfiguration."

Ed waved it, and a bunch of spiders flew from the end into Mr. Ollivander's hair. The next wand unshelved every single box in the store. About forty wands later, everything drifted into the air and stuck to the ceiling.

Finally, Mr. Ollivander stopped him. "Are you really left-handed? Every single wand I've shown seems to dislike you for multiple reasons. One of those reasons has been the same every time, and all I've shown you are left-handed wands. Did you lose maneuverability in your right arm for some reason? I need to know to be able to choose the right wand for you."

"I'm naturally right-handed, but I had an accident some years ago that caused me to need a prosthetic arm and leg. The prosthetic isn't exactly designed for fine motor control, so I've mainly been using my left hand since then."

"What sort of prosthetic?" asked Mr. Ollivander.

Ed sighed. "I've shown more people my automail in the past few days than I did in any one _year_ back home!" he complained. He did, however, pull off the fine white glove he had been wearing on his right hand.

Mr. Ollivander took in the dully gleaming metal without too much expression of surprise. He stared at it for a minute, then walked to the back of the shop, muttering about blood and metal.

He came back with three wands. The first was thirteen inches long, fat, and made of iron with a unicorn hair core. The second was twelve inches long, made of ash with a thestral hair core, and was wrapped in silver wire. The last was ten inches long and very thin. It was made of several rather unique materials: a basilisk fang with a steel handle, and a core made of thestral blood hardened into a makeshift stone.

Ed felt strangely attracted to the last one. He picked it up, and saw a black aura surrounding both himself and the wand. A cold wind sprang up, carrying voices with it.

"Winry, will you marry me?" asked one. It was Al. Ed bit back a sob and his knees gave out as he heard his brother's voice.

"Of course!" cried Winry in response. "I love you!" Then the wind faded, leaving Ed dejected on the floor.

Mr. Ollivander was white and shaking. He flatly refused pay for the wands, saying that the owners of such powerful wands would only find misery, and he didn't want to be paid for cursing them. He sent them away as soon as he could.

Next, Dumbledore led Ed and Roy to the apothecary shop, where Ed nearly fainted at the sight of dragon intestines that looked just like the _thing_ that he and his brother had brought to life in the failed transmutation.

As they were heading toward the bookstore, Dumbledore explained some of the rules of Hogwarts. "You, however, would be exempt from the uniform rule, Mr. Elric, as you would want to conceal that interesting prosthetic of yours. Ah, Flourish and Blotts. I must admit, this is one of the best bookstores around, but my pockets are becoming rather light. I'm afraid, Mr. Elric, that I must limit you to ten personal books. Many more, and I would be broke… Here's the list of the required books for sixth years; Mr. Mustang and I will meet you at the checkout." Ed was gone before he had even finished his sentence. "Is he always like this?" he asked Roy.

"He's not usually _this_ bad, but I think he's been feeling a little book-deprived the past few days. Still, I don't know that I've ever seen him without some form of reading material when he had the choice…"

"Ah, well. Shall we follow?"

"I suppose."

Half an hour later, Ed met them at the checkout. He had been carting stacks of books for the past fifteen minutes; it hadn't taken him long to find the required books and had taken him barely three minutes to find ten personal books, all of which had titles like _A Brief History of Time_. Dumbledore chuckled at the title, wondering when he would next see a student voluntarily read books that most adults were afraid of. Probably in a hundred years or so…

As Ed was about to let Dumbledore pay, he saw an old copy of a very familiar book- a battered journal of his father's with detailed notes about the Gate. He ran toward it, picking it up with almost worshipful respect. "Can we _please_ get this as well?" he asked, begging shamelessly.

Dumbledore smiled; the boy reminded him of himself with the way he was clutching the book to his chest as if someone would try to steal it. "Alright," he finally agreed.

Ed smiled, one of the first real smiles he had given in a long time. Dumbledore began to pay for the books, but the storekeeper stopped him when he saw the journal.

"This book is nonsense," he stated firmly. "I really don't think you want to buy it. It's worthless."

"_Worthless?_" shrieked Ed. "How could you call the basis for all alchemy _worthless?!_"

The storekeeper raised his hands in defeat, backing away from Ed's fury. "Alright, alright! Just don't say I didn't warn you. Here, I'll even give it to you for free."

Ed grinned, shoving half the bags at Roy, then ran out of the store. Roy sighed before following with Dumbledore at a slightly slower pace.

"Edward," called Dumbledore. "Shall we go to the Weasley twins' shop? I believe that everyone else is there at the moment."

Ed and Roy followed him to a store whimsically named _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes._ There was a large sign in the window, neon yellow against the dreary shops surrounding, flashing its message at the world:

_Why are you worrying about_

_You-Know-Who?_

_You should be worrying about_

_U-No-Poo-_

_The constipation sensation_

_That's gripping the nation!_

"I'll leave you in their care," Dumbledore said as he disappeared.

Ed and Roy entered the shop; there were boxes of _everything_ stacked in there, from fake wands to love potions to daydream charms. Roy stopped to admire the love potions, while Ed sought out Harry and Hermione. He found them talking to redheaded twins, who were wearing magenta robes that clashed horribly with their hair.

"Who-" began one.

"-Are you?" finished the other.

"I'm Edward Elric, and I'm staying with your family at the moment."

"You're not another of Ginny's boyfriends, are you?" asked one, walking to Ed's side, completely ignoring the idea of personal space.

"No!" protested Ed.

The other twin suddenly appeared at his other side, effectively sandwiching him. "I'm Fred, and that's George. I see you've been shopping. Got anything left for a few Nosebleed Nougats?"

"Sadly, no. I'm broke. I had to rely on Dumbledore just to get this stuff."

"Pity- but if you're with Dumbledore, you can't be all bad. Have something for free- I don't care what," said George.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Anyone in particular you want to prank?" asked Fred.

"My friend Roy. He's over looking at the love potions at the moment."

"The tall, black-haired guy?" asked George.

"That's him."

"Might try one of these. It's a variation of veritaserum, a truth potion. This little baby will make him tell the most embarrassing childhood story he has. Might slip it into his drink at a meal, so everyone will get to hear it."

"Perfect." Ed then did something he had sworn never to do. He smirked.

After a while at the store, he noticed that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were missing. He ran to Mrs. Weasley, knowing that those three were the sort to get themselves into trouble without a second thought. Mrs. Weasley immediately began panicking, and ran around in circles looking for them. When she finally found them, they were in the back room and said that they had been there the whole time. Ed raised an eyebrow at this; something just didn't seem quite right…

* * *

**A/N:** The twins make an entrance!! I like the twins; they're so funny... How was it? Any critiques? Review, people!! This isn't the most exciting chapter, but lack of reviews will keep me from posting the more exciting ones!! 


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: **I'm sorry for the long wait, but I must have rewritten this chapter five times before I was even remotely satisfied with it. sigh I need a life...  
Anyway, this chapter is a little longer, I think, and I thought it was at least mildly amusing... Darn it, I forgot what I was going to say... Oh, yes! _((Text))_ is a flashback.  
"English."  
'Whatever you're supposed to call Ed and Roy's native language, as I highly doubt they would speak English.' grins Everything else should be fairly simple...

* * *

Harry and his friends spent the remainder of the week talking about someone called "Malfoy". Ed ignored them, after failing to understand what they were talking about when listening to the first few conversations.

The night before the trip to Hogwarts, Ed packed his belongings into a trunk, his books taking up more space than everything else combined. He kept his wand out; he had been studying intently over the last week, and had somehow managed to memorize his textbooks from the first four years. On the train ride, he supposed, he would finish the fifth year ones.

He recalled the first spell he had attempted- it was one that would make items levitate. He had refused to say the incantation, instead preferring to try the spell nonverbally, so any opponent of his wouldn't be aware of the spell he was performing.

On his first try, he had somehow managed to glue everything in the room to the ceiling, including himself. When Roy came in the room, he nearly fell over laughing- until he was stuck to the ceiling as well. It took a while (nearly an hour) for everything to drift down to the floor.

After a few more tries, he had managed to cast the spell properly, and he hadn't mangled a single spell since.

Cramming everyone into a couple of taxis, after using the Floo network to reach a place where taxis actually traveled, was impossible. Since Harry required extra Aurors for protection, he and his bodyguards took one taxi, while everyone else rode in another.

When Ed first heard that he was supposed to run through a wall, he laughed. _"It's against all the laws of alchemy!"_ he had said. _"Or even muggle science! Do you honestly think that I'll believe it?"_

_"It's true,"_ Mr. Weasley had confirmed. _"You should probably leave now, or you'll miss the train."_

At this, Ed had scowled, but had run through the barrier anyway. During the rush of students trying to board, he had lost sight of Harry and the others, so he wandered the length of the train with Roy until they found Harry sitting with two strangers.

"Mind if we sit here?" asked Ed.

"Sure, go ahead," replied Harry before proceeding to ignore him.

Ed and Roy sat on the other side of the compartment, ignoring the three as they continued their animated discussion of "D.A. meetings". Roy fell asleep within the first five minutes, while Ed withdrew from the world and buried his nose in one of his textbooks until a boy with platinum-blonde hair walked in.

"So, Potty, this has to be a new low for you. Loony, the toadless squib, and a shrimp, as well as that loser snoring over there. What _wonderful_ company."

Ed twitched at the 'shrimp' comment. "Better a shrimp than a loudmouthed mother's boy," he snapped.

Malfoy's mouth compressed into a tight, thin line. "Don't talk about my mother, shrimp."

"Who are you calling so short that he needs a stepladder to reach the top of a table?!" he shouted. "I am _not_ short, you stupid son of a bitch!"

"I told you not to talk about my mother! My father will hear of this! The name's Malfoy- Draco Malfoy- and you had best not forget it!"

When the blonde jerk made to leave, Ed clapped his hands and pressed them to the floor, causing a fist to rise and hit Malfoy in the groin. Making high-pitched squealing noises vaguely reminiscent of a rusty hinge, Malfoy fell to the ground before crawling away. Caught up in this spectacle, nobody noticed the obese man passing by in the hallway.

"Ed?" asked Harry nervously. "What was that?"

"Alchemy," replied Ed as he resumed his sprawl over the seats and picked up his book again.

"You said you couldn't do alchemy!"

"I lied. I didn't want you pestering me about it."

Harry sighed, annoyed that he hadn't found this out earlier. His tension effectively stopped the conversation that had been taking place earlier, causing an awkward silence. Everyone was relieved when, a few minutes later, another interruption came.

"Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom?" asked a shy girl peering in the compartment.

"Yes?" replied Neville.

"Umm… I have an invitation to you from Professor Slughorn." She squeaked when Neville stepped up to take the invitation from her, then ran away.

Harry read the invitation over Neville's shoulder, then sighed. "Well, we don't have anything better to do. Oh, Ed, he wants you to come with us."

Ed read the note over Neville's other shoulder. "Sounds good," he said, then proceeded to bully Roy into going along with them.

"Hold on, why do you want to go? I thought you were anti-social."

"I am. But a party means that there will be food, and I'm hungry."

Harry laughed.

* * *

The "party" was a bust; it was more of an interrogation than anything else, although there _was_ food. Everyone there was either talented or related to someone famous. It seemed that Slughorn had seen the "wandless magic" of Ed's and wanted to know more about it, as well as question him about his parents.

This latter line of questioning brought up painful memories for Ed. He remembered his mother's death, the attempt at human transmutation, and his father's death. In the end, he nearly ran from the compartment in an attempt to leave behind the pain.

Roy stood, watching Ed, who was shaking slightly. He had run the entire length of the train, until he found himself stopped by the baggage cars.

Roy frowned. He strode forward and grabbed Ed by the shoulders, steering him back to the compartment. Neither of them noticed Harry's absence. They changed into clean clothes, Roy into a white shirt, black pants, and a black vest and Ed into his usual black attire, long jacket and all.

"Dumbledore is supposed to meet us there, right?" asked Ed.

'Yes,' replied Roy in their native tongue.

'Why the change in language? You know we need to practice our English- it's not exactly something we're familiar with.'

'But there aren't any English-speaking idiots in the compartment. Besides, didn't the Gate teach us English?'

"We still need to practice," Ed stated haughtily. Roy stared and he relented. 'Will you spar with me after dinner tomorrow? I'm getting a little out of shape.' Roy raised an eyebrow. 'Don't worry, no alchemy. I don't want to clean up the way we had to after the assessment.'

'Sounds good, shrimp.'

'Bastard! Why must you continually tease me about my height?'

'Or lack thereof?'

Ed sighed. 'Touché.'

The rest of the ride was quiet and rather uneventful. Ed and Roy spent the entire time staring out the window. Finally, as the train shuddered to a stop, they caught sight of Dumbledore and walked over to him.

"Good to see you," he greeted. "Will you come with me?" He gestured to the carriage that was waiting, complete with lizard-like horses at the front. They sat, trying to avoid looking at the grotesque things, but were somehow attracted to them. By the time the carriage started moving, they were openly staring.

"Ed ward, you will be introduced after the first-years. Before I introduce you, you may sit with Mr. Mustang at the table, but it would be best if you sat with your house during dinner, so you should join them after you are sorted."

Ed stared out the window, tearing his gaze from the lizard-horses, thinking as the world rolled past. After a while, he tried to move to prevent his right leg from falling asleep, and he noticed that both of his automail limbs failed to respond to the stimulus.

'Roy, my automail's dead!' he whispered, panicking slightly.

'Dead? What do you mean?'

'I mean _dead_! As in, not moving!'

"Is something wrong?" inquired Dumbledore, who had been watching the exchange with a great deal of amusement.

"My automail isn't moving."

"Automail? Ah, yes. Your intriguing prosthetic. How much of your body is automail?"

"My entire right arm and my left leg to around mid-thigh are prosthetic. I don't suppose that your oh-so-wonderful magic tricks could get them moving again?"

Dumbledore chose to ignore the blatant sarcasm of the last part. It was obvious that the scorn was more routine than actual disbelief, anyway. The child used to be a scientist of sorts, after all… "Ah," was all he chose to say as he pulled out his wand and began muttering something under his breath. When he was done, he held a small screw and a screwdriver in his hand. "Put this in your automail hand. It's enchanted to allow the electrical current passing into your automail to continue without being interrupted by the magical field surrounding Hogwarts."

Ed looked at Roy, who laughed quietly at the blonde's predicament before replacing the screw for him. Ed blinked, then smiled appreciatively as he shifted slightly, testing the spell.

"By the way, is there anything special today that requires this rather extravagant outfit?"

Ed looked down at himself. He was wearing the usual black. "What's so extravagant about it?"

"It's so… black."

"And?"

"Very few people wear so much black."

"I like this outfit!" argued Ed. "Besides, I think I deserve a statement of my mood after Slughorn practically stuck me in an interrogation room!"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Another of his parties? So he's started already. Can either of you see the thestrals?"

"The ugly horse things?"

"Yes. You know, you can only see them if you've witnessed someone's death."

That effectively put a halt to any conversation for the rest of the ride.

* * *

The Great Hall certainly lived up to its name. It was immense and incredibly ornate. Ed and Roy sat at the teachers' table, completely ignoring the first-years being sorted. They were jolted back to reality, though, when Dumbledore stood to begin his speech.

"Students, I have a few announcements to make." The entire hall fell silent, with the exception of Parvati and Lavender, who were too engaged in their conversation about good-looking boys (or lack thereof) at Hogwarts.

"Miss Patil, Miss Brown, I would like to get to those announcements sometime tonight," said Dumbledore, smiling. They squeaked and looked at the head table, then practically started drooling as they saw Ed and Roy.

"To continue, we have two people here from the country of Amestris. As they are unable to return to their country at the time, they will be residing here. I would like to present Roy Mustang, who will be teaching Alchemy this year."

Roy stood, causing many of the girls in the hall to sigh. He was wearing a black suit with silver trim that was similar in design to his military uniform, but more form-fitting. The dark suit made his pale skin and dark eyes stand out, making him seem exotic. He waved lazily before sitting back down.

"I would also like to present Edward Elric, who will be joining Hogwarts as a sixth-year student as well as assisting Professor Mustang in teaching alchemy. Edward, will you please go to the stool to be sorted?"

Ed stood, ignoring the sighs of nearly every girl in the hall. He slowly made his way to the stool, staring at it in apprehension before sitting and jamming the hat on his head.

_Who are you? _asked the hat. _Your memories are so hard to find… _It emitted a gasp of surprise. _What the hell? Let me off! I refuse to curse any house by sorting you into it!_

Gasps emanated from the hall, and Ed realized that the hat had said the last part aloud.

_But why?_ he thought.

_Look for yourself,_ said the hat bitterly.

((_A bright golden light surrounded him and his brother. He was excited; they were succeeding! They were going to bring back their mother! Then the warm golden light turned a harsh red at the transmutation backfired. The Gate opened, and thousands of black creatures began taking apart their bodies. Then the Gate was gone, and Ed was left alone, bleeding, with the soulless doll that was supposed to be their mother. He looked, then screamed. The thing wasn't human. He had killed Al for a pile of debris that wasn't their mother. He had killed Al for a monster.))_

_((Hot blood sprayed his face and slid down his arm. The area surrounding him was a misty pink from blood spraying into the air. Ed's automail arm, transmuted into a blade, was protruding form Greed's chest, causing the massive hemorrhage._

_As detested as he was, Ed also took some small satisfaction as he felt flesh give under the blade. He was ridding the world of something evil._

_Satisfaction turned to revulsion as he realized what he had been thinking. He had just killed someone, and he was enjoying it._

_"No!" he screamed, curling into a ball on the floor, hands held to his head. "You can't die! You're the Ultimate Shield! I can't kill you!" He was still cursing the body as it melted into the liquid of the unfinished Philosopher's Stone.))_

_((Envy and Ed had been fighting for a long time now, neither gaining the advantage. Envy had been changing shape into nearly every one of Ed's friends and family, trying to throw him off balance. Nothing worked until Envy showed his true face. It was the face of a golden-haired man, the face of Ed's half-brother._

_Ed stopped, horrified. He felt an enormous pain bloom in his chest, then darkness consumed him as he died and his soul departed for the Gate._

_He woke again, only to sacrifice himself to save his brother. He found himself standing before the Gate yet again. This time, the doors slowly opened, revealing thousands of eyes staring at him. He was dragged in, and his brain was overrun by images of war, love, and death. His brain was filled with the Truth, this time retaining a little more of it.))_

_Letting you in would corrupt the innocents among the student body, and I cannot allow that,_ stated the hat firmly.

All of this passed by in a few moments, and the only indication he gave that it had occurred at all was a nearly imperceptible widening of his eyes. He pulled off the hat and stood as Dumbledore walked over to him.

"Apparently I will have to tutor you privately, Edward. You may stay with Mr. Mustang. Go join him at the table," he instructed.

Ed nodded and obeyed.

"I would also like to announce that we have a new Potions master. Professor Slughorn, please stand. This means that Professor Snape will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. With that said, bon appetite!"

* * *

**A/N:** How was it? Good, hopefully. I see the hat as a protector of Hogwarts, in a way, so I don't think it would take very kindly to someone who could "corrupt" the students like Ed could... I think it would want to protect the students from someone who has seen so much death... Anyway, _**PLEASE REVIEW!!**_ (Yes, I lost my pride somewhere... sigh) 


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: **I can't believe I updated this quickly... This chapter is a little more humorous than the previous ones (and has more abrupt scene changes... sigh) but don't get used to it. Angst is coming along next chapter.  
Just a note: There are a few points where the story deviates from the normal POV, and they are now clearly defined thanks to a tip from Kazashi. Thanks to Kazashi!!  
While I'm at it, thanks to all my reviewers!

'Ed and Roy speaking in their native tongue'

**Disclaimer: **(Not very good about doing these, am I?) If I owned FMA, none of the episodes ever would have made it on screen thanks to procrastination and my perfectionism. And Hughes never would have died!

* * *

(Roy's POV)

I wondered what was wrong with Ed. After he put on that disgusting hat, he seemed unusually quiet. I even considered calling him "shrimp" to see if that would snap him out of his pensive state, but he would either ignore me or make a mess of the entire hall. Talk about a lose/lose situation…

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was sitting next to me and absentmindedly picking at his food; it was more of a mechanical motion than anything else.

I wondered what the hat had shown him, and that only served to remind me of how little I knew about him. I was his commanding officer, and I felt like I barely knew him.

Sure, I knew about Hoenheim living off people's souls, though it was only by chance that I knew. But Ed had hinted at something happening in Germany concerning his father, and I didn't know what. I didn't know how he felt after discovering that his father was hundreds of years old and murdering people to stay that way.

Sure, I knew that he tried to bring his mother back to life, and what that cost him. Sure, I knew that he had seen the Gate. But I didn't know what was so frightening about the inside of the Gate, having passed out.

I didn't know what caused his nightmares. Yet I was falling in love with him. How could I?

* * *

Dinner finished with only one minor interruption as Harry walked in with blood covering his face. After the students had left for bed (along with most of the teachers), Ed, Roy, Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall remained.

"Ah, Minerva," said Dumbledore warmly, "I would like you to meet Roy Mustang and Edward Elric. They will be teaching alchemy, as I explained to you earlier. We will be tutoring young Mr. Elric privately."

"Pleased to meet you," said the woman severely. She didn't look pleased at all. In fact, she looked almost frightened. _The sorting hat has never refused to sort a student before…_ "If you'll come with me, I'll show you to your rooms. I'm sure you're tired."

Ed and Roy followed in silence as she led them through a labyrinth of hallways and moving staircases. As they finally reached the room, she said, "You'll be sharing a suite, assuming you have no objections. Breakfast will be served in the Great Hall from seven to nine tomorrow morning. You need to be there by half-past seven to allow time for Albus and me to explain everything to you. Good night."

Ed hesitantly pushed open the door to the rooms, leaving both Roy and himself in shock.

The walls were a deep blue, and the floor was a black stone. There was a fiery, red, silk carpet lying in front of the bed. The bed itself was nothing short of extraordinary- a massive frame of blood wood with piles of black, silken sheets piled on top.

There were two rooms connected to this one: a gigantic bathroom and a walk-in closet. The bathroom was made entirely of black marble, excepting the plumbing fixtures and the textured glass shower.

Then they noticed something, and an awkward silence ensued. There was only one bed. Roy rubbed the back of his neck, while Ed simply walked into the room, staring at the ceiling to distract himself. Roy followed, if a little more slowly.

"I'm going to go change," Ed stated abruptly, grabbing some boxers and a tank top before heading into the bathroom.

Roy gathered his clothes and headed to the closed to change. There was no door separating the majority of the bathroom from the rest of the suite, so Roy caught a glimpse of Ed's bare shoulders as he passed. He smiled.

Roy was sitting in bed and reading when Ed (finally) came out of the bathroom. He raised an eyebrow, making Ed blush. Ed knew that his clothes were less able to cover him than he may have liked, but he ignored that fact simply to prevent himself from showing weakness in front of Roy.

'Shrimp, could you be wearing something a little more revealing?' Ed ignored the jibe, climbing into the opposite side of the bed. _At least there's plenty of room_, he noted.

'I could be wearing my birthday suit. Besides, you're not exactly bundled up, either,' he observed. It was true; Roy was wearing practically the same outfit he was.

Roy leaned over, inspecting Ed's automail. 'That must have hurt,' he said. He took Ed's automail hand in his, staring openly, enjoying the contact.

'It did,' Ed replied softly. 'But it needed to be done. I wasn't about to be _cared for_ and _waited upon_ for the rest of my life. I had to get back Al's body. And I wanted to be able to live my life.' Ed suddenly realized how much he was talking and grinned weakly. 'I'm sorry- you don't need to listen to this.'

'On the contrary,' murmured Roy. 'It's not healthy to keep your emotions bottled up inside. Even if it's something as simple as retelling a memory, it helps to let off the steam once in a while.' He was still running his hands over Ed's automail. His hands went higher up the arm until he reached the point where metal connected to flesh. Ed tensed; Roy sighed and pulled back, turning away.

'Roy, are you alright?'

'I suppose so,' he lied. 'I'm just tired.'

'I'm sorry.'

'What?' That took Roy by surprise; he wasn't sure he had ever heard Ed apologize before.

'I'm sorry for the horrible things I've said and done to you. You wee looking out for me all those years, and I was too self-centered to notice. I made your life hell, and I'm sorry.'

'I forgave you long ago,' said Roy. He pulled Ed into a light embrace, which Ed returned. 'I'm sorry as well, for not being there for you when you needed me most. Now go to sleep. We're both too tired to think straight.'

* * *

(Roy's POV)

I dreamt of the Gate that night. It was nothing distinct, all incredibly hazy, but it was still terrifying.

_A giant maw, that was what it reminded me of. A mouth that devoured human souls by the thousands. Its lips were closed at the moment, but that was about to change. _

_Its doors slowly opened, giving way to a fierce golden light. The light was beautiful, cleansing, but I could tell that continued exposure would scour the depths of my soul until nothing remained._

_I tried to move, but found myself unable to. Black creatures that resembled the most grotesque of chimeras held me in place._

_Soon, nothing was left of me. The light continued, regardless, searching to purify its next victim._

I woke in a panic to hear Ed whimpering. He seemed to be begging someone to give his brother back… My heart sank as I realized what memory he was reliving. The night of the failed transmutation.

'Take my arm, my other leg, my heart… Just give my brother back! Please… I'm sorry, Al… All I could get for my arm was your soul…'

I turned to him and shook him. 'Wake up, Ed. Wake up!' I babbled anything that came to mind. I wasn't exactly used to comforting people, but it seemed I had been doing so quite frequently since we came to this place. Ed was coming apart at the seams, reliving his worst memories.

The worst part was that I couldn't be there for him. I felt myself falling apart as well. Perhaps not as quickly, but falling apart nonetheless.

When Ed finally relaxed, I gathered him into my arms, and we stayed that way until we fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning found Ed still curled in Roy's arms. He looked up at the ceiling, suddenly of the many mood swings he had been having. _I'm like a pregnant woman! If there is a God, he certainly has a horrible sense of humor._

He lay there for a while, listening to Roy's slow breathing. It was comforting to be so close to a human life that he hadn't ruined. A sudden fit of depression overtook him, and he noiselessly slipped out of bed.

There was a small clock on the wall near the door reading half past two. Ed sighed, changed into a loose white shirt and black pants, and quickly left the room.

At first, he simply wandered aimlessly, trying to escape the thoughts that plagued him. Eventually he heard a small dripping noise. He walked down the same hallway several times, trying to find the source of the noise.

Suddenly a door appeared in the wall. He entered cautiously and was astonished to see a room completely full of components for alchemy, from trees, rocks, and various mineral deposits to a small stream that was the source of the dripping.

_Flowing from nowhere to nowhere, never reaching its destination_, he thought. _Ironic._

He realized that he had yet to try alchemy on this side of the Gate. He hesitantly clapped his hands and pressed them to the floor, drawing an ornate spear from the ground. He smirked, then began thinking of how best to practice his hand-to-hand combat.

_Sensei would come back from the grave and kill me if I let myself get too rusty,_ he thought, shuddering at the thought.

As he thought this, the room seemed to change, forming a level platform in the middle that was the perfect size for a series of one-man practices.

He smiled.

* * *

By the time Ed returned to the room, he was exhausted. He had been in the Room of Requirement for nearly two hours, practicing his alchemy and sparring.

He held a hand to his head; it was throbbing from dehydration. He turned toward the bathroom, sighing. A cold shower would do him a world of good.

As he entered the bathroom, he noticed something he hadn't before. Roy wasn't in bed… because he was just getting out of the shower.

Ed squeaked and ducked back into the bedroom. He slowly sat on the bed, staring at his hands, trying to distract himself. Without much success. _Damn, that bastard even looks good _wet

Roy came out with a towel around his waist, using another to dry his hair. 'I take it you got an eyeful, eh, shrimp?'

It was a measure of how flustered Ed was that he didn't react to the "shrimp" comment. 'I… Well, I…' he stuttered.

'Like what you see?'

He lost his balance and fell off the bed. He lay on the floor, thinking _yes_.

Roy simply laughed. 'Come back to bed, shrimp. It's too early to be awake.'

Later that morning, Ed noticed that Roy had unconsciously wrapped his arms around him while they slept. He tried to pull away without waking the older man, but Roy only pulled him closer. Ed sighed (whether from frustration or joy, he didn't know) and pushed his friend off the bed.

'Whatareyoudoingpushingmeoffthebedthisearlyinthemorningyouidiot?' Roy yelled.

'We're going to be late to meet with Dumbledore!'

'Who cares? I want to go back to sleep… No, I won't do the paperwork, Riza… Don't point that gun at me… Ouch!'

Ed stood over the older man, foot planted in his stomach. 'Now that you're awake, we have a meeting to go to.'

A few minutes later, the effects of Ed's bullying were shown in two ways: First, Roy was dressed. Second, there was a large bruise forming on his stomach.

They ran to the Great Hall, staring as it struck them just how many students Hogwarts had. They had seen last night, but had written it off to sleep deprivation and odd effects of the food. This morning served as proof.

A nearly deafening outpour of sighs from the girls in the hall hit them like a physical blow as they walked to the head table. They heard snippets of conversation as they walked.

"The blonde is _so_ cute!"

"Are you kidding? The tall one is _way_ cuter!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Ask Richelle!"

"I… I don't know!"

"Blonde!"

"_Tall_!"

This last was accompanied by a loud crash as the two arguing girls dove over the table at each other. Lemonade and pumpkin juice flew onto the nearby spectators as the girls rolled down the table, trying to strangle each other. Yelps were heard as those spectators began throwing food. The girls lusting for Roy and those lusting for Ed formed lines on opposing sides of the table, then began throwing utensils at each other.

Meanwhile, the objects of their affection had reached their seats at the teachers' table and were staring in disgust and awe at the spectacle that was unfolding before them.

After watching for a moment, eyes twinkling in amusement, Dumbledore finally stood. "_Order_."

That one word carried the entire length of the hall, catching everyone's attention.

"Now, would you sit down and stop embarrassing these poor men? I'm sure that they are currently wondering why the girls of the school seem to be infected with rabies. Also, you will get to clean the (admittedly rather impressive) mess you have made of this hall after breakfast is over."

The participants looked around at the horrific mess. Fully half of the Great Hall was littered with food and utensils; it looked as though a tsunami had crashed through there. Most of the participants had the grace to blush; all returned to their seats.

"I must say," Dumbledore mentioned serenely, "that must have been the strangest normal thing that has ever happened here."

While Ed and Roy were trying to figure this out, Professor McGonagall passed them both sheets of paper.

"What is this?" asked Roy. _Not paperwork, please say it's not paperwork…_

"Your schedules. Edward, yours is so much larger because of the private tutoring you will be receiving." She turned her attention from her food to them. "There are a few rules I need to tell you before you begin teaching today. For one, no physical punishment of the students is allowed. Instead, the teachers take away house points and are able to assign detentions. The teachers are also obligated to award house points for extraordinary performance in class.

"Now, on to a few more rules…"

Nearly an hour later, McGonagall had almost finished her speech. _Finally._

"Your classes are one hour long and you have two of them today. The first class begins at the noon bell, the second immediately thereafter. I will be sitting in on your classes today, to ensure that your teaching method isn't overly critical or lenient. If you have any further questions, I will be available then." She turned and left quickly, almost _too_ quickly.

"Roy."

"Mm?"

"Why does she hate us? She's only known us for a day, and most of that was spent lecturing us! How can she judge us in such a limited amount of time?"

"Now, Ed," said Roy, his tone admonishing. "She's just concerned for the well-being of the school."

"I suppose…"

"Well, I _know_. Come on, we've got a class to prepare for. I was thinking that you could handle the first few classes and cover alchemic theory. You _are_ an expert, after all."

"I know what you're doing, bastard."

"Doing?" Roy actually had the nerve to pretend innocence.

"You're trying to get out of work."

"Why would you think that? When have I ever tried to get out of work?"

"Well, let's see… As far as I can remember, since I joined the military you've burned your paperwork over five thousand times, you've left early without authorization nearly a hundred times, and-"

"There's no record of any of that!"

"Not in _this_ world, there isn't."

Roy stopped walking. "There _are_ records?"

"In the very capable hands of Riza Hawkeye."

"Great. Something else I need to worry about when I get back. Maybe I should start a list…"

"You'd only burn it."

"Good point…"

"Hey, Roy, will you spar with me? I know the perfect place, and we still have a few hours before class."

Silence.

"I'll take the first few classes, for the most part, and I'll take half the classes thereafter if you'll spar with me on a regular basis if I ask it. Please?"

_Did Ed actually say "please"? _"I guess."

Ed dragged him to the Room of Requirement and they began attempting to destroy the place.

* * *

**A/N:** Once again, I apoligize for how awkward this chapter is. Please review anyway! (I'll try to update when the total reviews for this story reach 70. That's 12 reviews for this chapter, people!) Next chapter: angst and alchemy class. 


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N:** An early update! Yay!  
Thanks to all who reviewed! (You people are awesome.)  
Anyway, here's the chapter I promised.

* * *

Ed and Roy walked into the classroom approximately five minutes before class was scheduled to begin. The room was still completely empty. 

"Remember that you're introducing us, Roy, and that I may call upon you for demonstrations or answers, which means you can't fall asleep," Ed lectured.

"I know! How many times have we been over this now?" complained Roy.

"This is only the second time, you idiot!"

Roy paused. "Really? How odd…"

Professor McGonagall walked in, her cloak billowing behind her like a cape. "Mr. Mustang, Mr. Elric." She acknowledged them with a brief nod. "Can I assume that you are prepared for class?"

"As much as we'll ever be," replied Ed, while Roy nodded in agreement.

Students began filing in.

"The first class is composed of sixth- and seventh-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. The second will be the same age group, but Gryffindor and Slytherin," commented McGonagall.

"And we care… why?" asked Ed.

"By that comment, I assume that you do not. However, it tells you that you will only be teaching the older students, which may change how strictly you treat them."

"Ah."

The last of the students were sitting long before class began, some of them nervous as to how strict the new teachers were. Several of them were sweating; two or three looked ready to faint. The majority of the students, however, expected the class to be easy, a worthless pile of information on the transmutation of lead into gold.

"Class," began Roy as the bell rang. The class ignored him and continued talking. "_Class_," he tried again, this time louder. The class still ignored him. His eyebrow twitched as he slipped on a pyrotex glove. "_CLASS!_" he roared, snapping his fingers.

Students screamed as flames erupted above their heads, several of them losing control of the contents of their bladders.

His eyebrow still twitching, Roy continued. "Class, I am Professor Mustang, and this is Professor Elric. We will be attempting to teach you idiots the fine science of alchemy. As it is a science, you will not be using your wands, though you will be taking quite a few notes. Anyone not paying attention may find his or her clothes burned off. Do you understand?" He looked around expectantly. When no objections were raised, he continued. "We will be starting on alchemic theory for the first few weeks, until we judge that you are ready to attempt actual transmutations. Professor Elric will be handling the first classes, as he is an expert on alchemic theory. Any objections to anything I have said will be raised _now_."

Silence.

"Well, let's begin, shall we?"

* * *

After class, Roy and Ed found themselves confronted by an irate McGonagall. 

"Was it really necessary to threaten the students so much?" she asked.

"Yes," they replied in unison.

"Really? And where did you pick up such a unique teaching style?"

"The military," replied Roy.

"The devil," replied Ed. When Roy looked at him oddly, he elaborated. "Izumi-sensei."

Roy grimaced. "I'll bet." He had only met her once, when she was _dying_, but she still managed to scare him. Hell, she was worse than his mother…

"Well, it's completely inappropriate! You will _not_ do that again, do you understand? The students are here to learn, not be abused!"

"How are we supposed to gain the attention of the students when they ignore us?" interjected Ed.

"Give detentions to the ones talking the most, of course!"

"Do you really think those students give a rat's ass about detentions? Besides, I can control the flames perfectly. None of the students were harmed, were they?" objected Roy.

McGonagall stared at them frostily. "Nevertheless, you will _not_ do that again. I trust you can handle the next class alone?" She stalked away without waiting for a response.

When class started, Roy was expecting to have to scream in order to make himself heard. Instead, the classroom was nearly silent; it appeared that news of his earlier demonstration had spread rather quickly. Without further ado (besides admiring the silence until Ed told him to "get on with it"), he began the introduction.

"My name is Roy Mustang, and this is my colleague, Edward Elric. We will be attempting to teach you alchemy this year. As there seems to be a difference between our concepts of alchemy, I would like to explain that it has many more uses than turning lead into gold. It is not a magic, it is a science. As such, you will not be using your wands in this class, though you will be taking many, _many_ notes.

"For the first few weeks, you will be learning the basic theorems of alchemy. Later on, you will be allowed to begin simple, supervised transmutations. Professor Elric" –he grimaced with distaste at the title– "will be teaching most of the first few weeks, since he is probably our country's leading expert on alchemic theory. Any questions?"

A blonde boy raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr.…?"

"Malfoy, _sir_." The 'sir' had a decidedly sarcastic air.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, did you actually have a question that needed addressing, or did you simply want to wave your hand in the air?"

"My question is whether or not you could actually show us some of this alchemy you boast about. You claim it's so wonderful, but we have yet to assess that for ourselves."

Roy's eyebrow twitched. He hastily sketched a circle on the wall, which enveloped Malfoy in a cocoon-like structure, leaving only his head free.

"That is one of the many things that are possible with alchemy, squirt. And if you try to undermine my authority again, I will do much worse. Understand?"

Malfoy nodded quickly.

"Oh, Malfoy?" added Ed. "The incident on the train would be another example."

Malfoy's normally pale face turned dead white.

"Class, let us begin. There is one principle above all that forms the basis of alchemy: Equivalent Exchange. This principle states that to obtain, something of equal value must be lost."

He looked at the class. Every student was staring at him like he was a raving lunatic. "You might want to be taking notes," he suggested mildly. There was an immediate scramble for quills and parchment.

One student raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss…?" He should have known her name, he really should. Herm something?

"Hermione Granger, sir." Well, he had almost remembered her first name…

"Your question, Miss Granger?"

"Does Equivalent Exchange apply to energy? It sounds similar to the law stating that energy can neither be created nor destroyed."

"Very good, Miss Granger. Twenty points to Gryffindor. The law does pertain to energy, though it also pertains to matter. In essence, it states that you cannot create material from nothing. If you started with a pound of carbon, you will end with a pound of carbon, unless you change the material at the subatomic level. Even then, there will be the same number of subatomic particles."

"That explains the part about matter, but how does the law pertain to energy?"

"Energy can neither be created nor destroyed. The energy has to come from somewhere. Before you ask, no, I will not tell you where it comes from. There are some things that you are not ready to know yet.

"On a different note, let's teach you how to read the periodic table…"

* * *

As the bell rang, Ed called out, "Don't forget! Homework, due next class: memorize the periodic table!" The class practically sprinted away. 

He sank into a chair with a groan. "What a bunch of snot-nosed brats! Now I know why Izumi-sensei was always so angry… Oh, will you release the kid you trapped earlier?"

"Do I have to?"

Ed gave him a playful shove. Roy acquiesced, releasing the annoying knee-biter, who immediately ran from the classroom, screaming threats the entire way.

"Roy, are you tired?"

"Incredibly. I didn't sleep very well last night."

Ed yawned. "Let's take a nap. We can talk to the other teachers later. Come on."

* * *

[Roy's POV 

I dreamt of Ed as I slept. He was being taken apart, piece by piece, as the Gate exacted its toll for his brother's life. I heard in my mind the screams I had witnessed that night. Blood dripped onto the floor. Slowly, perhaps, but in large enough amounts that the entire floor was soon slick with blood. And the screaming wouldn't stop.

I woke, realizing that Ed was softly crying out in his sleep. His hoarse voice indicated that he had been screaming earlier, which was the probable cause of my dream, but now he simply begged for forgiveness.

I held him close until he cried himself back to a more restful sleep, then fell asleep myself. I started dreaming again almost immediately.

_I was in Ishbal. People were screaming and dying all around me, and I found myself helping in the assault against them._

_As I snapped my fingers, large segments of the city burst into flames. I had been told that these people were evil, that they would kill us if we didn't kill them first, but I simply couldn't imagine them doing that. They seemed like a peaceful people. I hadn't yet seen a weapon used in anything other than self-defense._

_There was chaos in the streets as people ran from us, confused, frightened, and hurt. Innocent women and children fell to the guns and alchemy of the state military._

_One young girl, no more than five or six, ran in front of me. She had a large gash in her arm from one of the bullets grazing her. Her breathing was ragged; she was about to collapse._

_She stopped, staring at me, tears building in her eyes. "Help me!" she screamed. I had no chance to reply before a bullet struck her in the head. Blood sprayed onto me._

_Yes, what a proud force we alchemists were. "Be thou for the people" was our motto, but we were simply a group of alchemically talented hypocrites calling our slaughter justice._

_I found myself facing another cowering child, this one a young boy. He held a gun, but showed no inclination to use it. I couldn't kill him; he was innocent, just like the girl who was killed in front of me._

_I stepped forward, intending to help him. His eyes grew wide in fear, and he raised the gun. I reacted out of gut instinct, snapping my fingers._

_He never had a chance._

_Later, I received orders to kill the doctors. They were wonderful people, the Rockbells, helping anyone in need. Therein was the problem. Some of their patients were Ishbalan soldiers who would rise up and fight us as soon as they were healed._

_I tried to protest the orders for their death, but the people above me stood firm in their decision. I tried reasoning with them, but they threatened me with execution for betrayal of the state._

_Mrs. Rockbell invited me inside for tea. I didn't know what to do, so I accepted, trying to suspend reality for a brief moment. Mr. Rockbell was waiting inside, and immediately showed me the latest pictures of his daughter. He reminded me of Maes, in a way._

_"I'm sorry," I said as I shot them._

_I'll never forget the despair I felt afterwards._

_I'll never forget the hurt and accusing look of their daughter._

_I'll never forget their screams._

* * *

Ed woke to the sound of knocking. Groaning and throwing on a jacket, he walked to the door and opened it. 

Hermione stood there, hand raised to knock again. "Professor Elric-"

"Outside the classroom, it's just Ed," he interrupted.

She nodded. "Ed, Professor Dumbledore wants to see you. He says that he needs to begin teaching you the basics of magic, so you'll probably want your wand."

He nodded and stepped back. "Come in. Roy's asleep at the moment, but at the moment he probably wouldn't wake up unless he was attacked."

"Why, do you get attacked often?"

"Forget it. It was just an example."

"But-"

"I said to forget it."

She let it go, not out of any sudden respect for his privacy, but because she could nearly see the reluctance to talk pouring out of him. And if he didn't want to talk, she knew she couldn't make him. Besides, she could always try snooping later.

Slipping into the room, the first thing she noticed was how dark it was. As Ed searched for his wand, she walked around the room, finally noticing a small pile of papers hastily shoved aside.

Hermione had been tactful for too long. Her curiosity finally got the better of her.

The first few pages held complex equations and arrays. Later, she found drawings, beautiful and unique: a dragon, a lonely house on a hilltop, a man with rotting flesh, a girl holding a wrench, a woman with a gun.

These drawings were beautiful, but somehow felt empty, just shadows of the subject, so Hermione put them aside.

The next few were full of passion- whether love or hate, she was unable to tell. A beautiful woman. A man melting into a liquid substance. A laughing boy and a suit of armor. A dark-haired alchemist creating fire.

She paused at the last one. Unless she was mistaken, that was…

"Roy."

She jumped as Ed came up behind her. He ignored her and continued.

"This one's my brother, Alphonse. This is Greed, and this is my mother." His voice held no rebuke. Instead, it was full of sadness.

Hermione felt horrible. "I'm sorry."

"You know, if you're going to delve into others' personal affairs, you really should do it when they're out of the room."

"I didn't mean to pry."

"Just like you didn't mean to pry when you asked about the attacks. Besides, I've already told you that my country is at war."

She was at a loss for words. Good, she deserved to be.

"If you must know, besides the usual fighting, there have been people targeting me specifically, since I was rather famous. Several in particular, the homunculi, were constantly attacking both my brother and me. It never occurred to you that your prying could bring up memories that I'd rather not relive, did it?" He turned and left.

She stood there for a moment, feeling uncharacteristically guilty. Then she ran to catch up and lead him to Dumbledore's office.

"So, what's your wand made of?" she asked, trying to relieve the awkward silence.

"A basilisk fang with a core of thestral blood and a steel handle," he recited.

Hermione's eyes nearly sparkled, reminding him of a certain Major… "I've never heard of such a unique combination before! May I see it?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You need to learn that not everyone enjoys having their privacy invaded."

"If I wanted to invade your privacy, I'd ask you why you're constantly involved in the battles in your country! It seems like you could nearly be causing all of them!" she snapped, taking out her anger on him.

"I did cause one of them," he said softly. "I was just trying to help the people by exposing what their leader was doing to them. He came back and led them in a revolt. The state military moved in, doing what they wanted with the people. One of my friends was raped. So don't you _dare_ take the moral high ground and say that you've been through as much as I have!"

"You don't know what we've been through!"

"You're disgusted by the very idea of a massacre taking place. How do you think it would feel to know you caused it?" he yelled.

Silence reigned for a long time as they walked. Eventually, Hermione gathered the courage to speak again. "I guess that explains the thestral blood core," she said solemnly.

"Why?"

"Thestrals only appear to those who have seen people die, and are widely regarded as an omen of death."

Conversation again ground to a halt, this time for the rest of the journey.

"Sugar quill," said Hermione before leaving.

Ed watched, fascinated, as the staircase began to spiral upwards. He stepped on after a moment and rode to the top.

"Ah, Edward!" greeted Dumbledore warmly.

"Professor," he replied.

"Cockroach cluster?" offered Dumbledore, holding out a bowl full of what looked like actual cockroaches.

Ed fought down a wave of nausea. "I'll pass, thanks. So what did you want to meet me for?"

Dumbledore sighed and put down the bowl. "Your first lesson, but you seem troubled."

"Just a few bad memories. I'll be fine."

"I have something that could help. Do you see that empty bowl over there? That is a pensive. They are designed to hold memories that are weighing you down. You won't forget the memory; it will simply be stored away in your subconscious. You see, the mind forms a link with the pensive, so you can access it anytime you wish. The memory is best, though, when you are in the pensive. Would you care to try?"

Ed shrugged. "It wouldn't hurt, I guess…"

Dumbledore smiled. "Shall we?" he asked, indicating the basin. "Place your wand to your temple, like so."

Ed took out his wand, fumbling a bit. "Professor, does it matter which hand I hold my wand with?"

"No, I do not believe so, though I would suggest you hold it in whichever hand is steadiest. A wand in the eye is quite an annoyance."

"Do you speak from personal experience?"

"Why yes, actually. Thankfully there was a skilled healer nearby at the time."

Ed smiled slightly, placing his wand against his head. "Now what?"

"Concentrate on a memory, any memory. Focus on it. Feel its energy."

Ed recalled an image that had been plaguing him lately. It was the memory of his attempt to resurrect his mother. He concentrated on the significance the memory held to him; he could feel nothing else that could be described as energy. Focusing on that energy, he soon saw the fine silver thread that was its physical manifestation. He drew the wand away from his head, bringing the silver string along with it.

The thread pooled in the bottom of the basin, an eerie glow emanating from it. A face formed on the surface of the pool; a scream echoed throughout the watery substance.

Ed found himself standing in the middle of one of his worst memories. He had to follow what his younger self had done. He was helpless. _Will the screams never end?_

He suddenly found himself on the floor in Dumbledore's office.

"Edward, calm down. It was just a memory, though it seemed a rather potent one, I must admit," said Dumbledore in a soothing voice. "Perhaps we should quit for the day."

"No," replied Ed stubbornly. "I have to get these out."

He managed to make it through several memories concerning the Gate, his death, and the homunculi before he collapsed from exhaustion.

"Such a stubborn boy," said Dumbledore, shaking his head. "I'd best get you to the infirmary…"

* * *

Harry stood in Dumbledore's office, wondering where the headmaster was and why he had asked for him. He looked around in boredom, noticing a faint glow in one of the cabinets. 

_Dumbledore's pensive? No, the glow is a different color…_

Ignoring all caution, he threw open the cabinet doors and looked inside. In doing so, he opened the doors to a living hell.

* * *

Dumbledore was walking up the steps to his office when he heard a muffled crash echoing down the stairwell. Concerned, he ran up the rest of the stairs, stopping as he reached the doorway. 

Harry was lying on the floor, his eyes wide open but seeing nothing.

* * *

**A/N:** (evil laughter) I told you it was angsty... The next chapter will probably be even more so...  
Roy's emotional problems are finally coming to light. Many thanks to Treesquirrel15 for his/her comments on Roy's emotional scarring.  
The next chapter may take a couple of weeks to get out, since I haven't written it quite yet, but I would love to have inspiration. (Yes, more begging for reviews. I'm shameless, aren't I?)  
Please review! 


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Sorry for the long wait on this. I must have rewritten the ending five or six times...

* * *

[Roy's POV 

_The nonstop sound of shooting reached my ears. I was surrounded by fire and death, both of my own making. Crashes echoed throughout the city as we state alchemists did our work._

_Children were holding guns and rushing me. What had this world come to? Even worse, we were shooting them. The guns never stopped._

I woke to the sound of panicked knocking. I waited for Ed to get the door, but he never did. Grumbling to myself, I pulled on a robe before answering it.

Hermione stood there, pale and sweating. "Harry and Ed are in the hospital wing!" she cried, grabbing my hand and pulling me along behind her.

"What's wrong with them?" _Especially Ed. What's wrong with Ed?_

"Harry's in a coma! He hasn't woken up yet, and the cause is still unknown!" she sobbed.

"What about Ed?" I asked, grabbing her arm.

She stared at me blankly. The redheaded boy that was constantly hanging off her answered instead. "He collapsed… I think he wasn't getting enough rest, or something."

"'Or something?' You don't even know?"

"We're a little concerned about Harry, in case you haven't noticed!" Hermione snapped defensively.

"Harry's in a coma and Professor Elric's a little tired. Which one do _you_ think is more important?" Ron retorted at the same time.

That sent me over the edge. I grabbed Ron and shoved him against the wall. "Listen, you little ass, Ed is under a considerable amount of stress right now. Neither of us has slept properly for days, and he's still recovering from some serious injuries. If you're telling me that I should care more for some stranger than the only friend I have here, you just might roast," I said icily, bringing my gloved hand up to his face, ready to snap.

His face twisted into an expression of complete fear. Just like that boy in Ishbal…

Memories overwhelmed me. Almost unconsciously, I released Ron, who slid to the floor in shock. I backed up, hands flying to my face as I relived the fire and death of the genocide.

_So many people… I've killed so many innocent people…_

"Are you okay, Professor?" asked Hermione, standing over me. I had fallen back against the wall as the memories assaulted me.

"Who cares?" muttered Ron.

Hermione glared at him before repeating her question.

I pulled myself together quickly, trying to ignore the cracks that were appearing in the shield of my emotions. I didn't answer the girl, but stood somewhat shakily and began walking. She and her friend followed, of course, and began leading me to the infirmary.

Grateful for small blessings, I noticed that neither of them asked any more questions. Neither of them spoke at all, leaving our walk to complete silence except for the soft sounds of our footsteps echoing down the halls. Were they concerned for my sanity, worried that I might snap at any given moment? I was certainly more volatile than I had been before, and that worried me.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, we arrived. Both Ed and Harry lay in white beds, oblivious to the world around them. They looked like they were simply sleeping, albeit fitfully.

I pulled a chair next to my subordinate's bed and fell asleep, back to the world of dreams and memories.

* * *

_I wondered where Ed was, how he died. He had disappeared over a month ago, leaving behind his younger brother, who, for the first time that I had seen, inhabited his original body instead of a suit of armor._

_I found myself constantly comparing him with Ed. It was unintentional, not to mention unfair, but I couldn't help but notice the differences in looks and mannerisms._

_It had been a month, so we had no choice but to assume that Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, had passed on. It was a tragic loss, and his death was mourned throughout the country._

_But nobody grieved like the few who gathered for his funeral in Risembool. Havoc, Breda, Riza, Falman, Sciezka, Fuery, and I all made the journey to join Ed's family in mourning._

_I stayed at the grave long after the ceremony was over, until long after darkness had fallen. It seemed as though the light of my life was gone._

* * *

"It just looks like he's sleeping," whispered Hermione, tears forming in her eyes.

Ron pulled her into an awkward hug. "He'll be fine, 'Mione."

"I know," she sobbed. "It's just… We don't even know what happened to him!"

"Curiosity killed the cat, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore, who had entered unnoticed. "I believe that he was in Mr. Elric's pensive. Perhaps not the wisest thing for him to have done. Unfortunately, we cannot do anything but hope that he can deal with the memories by himself."

Hearing the conversation, Roy stirred slightly.

"In retrospect, perhaps, it may not seem intelligent, but I'm sure he had a good reason," said Hermione, hurt.

At the same time, Ron began yelling. "So it's Elric's fault that Harry's in a coma?"

"Do not be ridiculous," said Dumbledore mildly. "One's memories are a private thing. It would be Harry's own fault for disregarding that privacy."

Roy's eyes snapped open. "He did _what?_"

"It was a mistake!" snapped Ron.

"Sure it was! He just _happened_ to find himself looking at some of Ed's worst memories! I don't suppose he'll look at mine and pass judgment on me next?"

"Stop it!" cried Hermione, wilting under his furious gaze. "It's not like that at all…"

He wasn't finished, though. "My memories are bad enough already! I don't need judgment!"

Standing quickly, he staggered. "I want to die," he whispered as he fainted.

_It's all I deserve._

* * *

"Honestly, why are _they_ unconscious?" fumed Ron. "Harry's the victim here!"

Hermione glared at him. "I already know that Harry's comatose, thank you very much! I don't need you to remind me! It's already been two days… Just stop talking… Please…"

Ron's face fell. "I'm sorry, 'Mione. I didn't mean it."

"I know… We're both worried, and it's making us act differently. I keep snapping at people, even at Madam Pomfrey when she came by…" She stood and left the room.

Ron turned to his friend, whose eyes flicked back and forth underneath his eyelids. "Harry, I hope you wake up soon."

* * *

At that precise moment, Harry was suffering in the grip of dreams.

A younger version of the professor drew a complex array on the floor. Both he and another child poured a mixture of elements into the middle of the circle.

As they slit their fingertips, Harry saw a look of nervousness flit across the brunette's face.

"Don't do it!" he cried, knowing they couldn't hear him, but needing to try. He had relived this scene once already, and it terrified him.

The two boys nodded and placed their hands on the edge of the array. A deceptively warm golden light shone momentarily before turning a hideous red. The boys looked around nervously.

Suddenly, one screamed as his body was pulled apart. The professor tried to help him, but was held back by the creatures that were pulling off his leg. Harry watched as the younger of the two was pulled into the depths of _it_.

The professor turned as he saw movement. His eyes widened as he saw the thing he had created, its eyes glowing in the darkness. He screamed.

Harry retched as he saw the blood dripping onto the floor from the remnants of the boy's leg, the pool it created spreading quickly.

"Alphonse…" whispered the professor. He reached across to his bleeding stump of a leg, catching the stream of blood in his hand. He quickly sketched an array onto the back of a suit of armor. "Take my arm, my other leg, my heart… Just give my brother back! Please…"

After that, all Harry could remember was blood.

* * *

[Hermione's POV

There are far too many grey areas in life. Blame must often be assigned to more than one person.

I want to blame Ed for what happened to Harry, but I'm not sure I can. Harry never should have been in that pensive in the first place. Besides, if the memories are so horrible, didn't Ed already suffer enough? Blame and ostracism would only make him feel worse.

Or would they affect him at all? He can be so cold at times. I wonder if he even cares.

But could the ice be hiding something else? Pain, perhaps? I wish I knew… And how long will Harry be comatose? Will he still be the same when he wakes up?

I think Ron is the only reason I'm still sane. I thank God he's here.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

Ron looked at himself in the mirror, disgusted. He had been trying for over an hour to find the proper way to apologize to Hermione for snapping at her earlier, with limited success. He had started off with a speech that lasted nearly five minutes, but kept editing it until all he had left was "I'm sorry."

_Why do I even bother?_ he wondered. _It's not like I'm brave enough to apologize coherently anyway. I'll just get flustered like I always do._

He sighed in defeat. _It looks like "I'm sorry" is the best it's going to get. I might as well go ahead and try._

He walked, quite slowly, to the infirmary and took a deep breath. "Hermione, I-" he began, when he realized that she was sleeping in the far corner. "Damn," he whispered, apology dying in his throat.

Sighing, he sat on the stool between Harry's bed and Elric's. "Harry, if you don't wake up soon, I'm going to pummel you. Hermione's just not acting like herself… It's ironic, isn't it, that the time I've become closest to her is also the time I'm farthest away. I've been able to comfort her, but you're the one always on her mind.

"You know, you're the one person to survive You-Know-Who. You shouldn't be brought down by something as insignificant as some memories." His brow furrowed, and he turned to address Ed.

"Is that why the hat refused to sort you? We need to know what's going on in your head, if it's dangerous to Harry…" He trailed off.

_The only one I know who would even consider it is Snape._

* * *

Dumbledore knew that he shouldn't even consider what he was about to do. It went against all the morals he had ever been taught. But he needed to know who this child was, and if he presented a threat.

The Sorting Hat generally knew what it was doing, but Dumbledore had decided to allow Edward to stay, despite the hat's protests. He didn't quit know why, but the boy seemed familiar somehow.

As he sat next to the boy, he held one last moment of doubt before he plunged in headfirst.

"Legilimens."

He ignored the memories that he had seen in the pensive, searching only for ones linked to Voldemort. He found none specifically mentioning the dark lord, but he did find one thing of interest. He had passed through the memory, but came back as realization struck him.

A golden-haired man lay in the teeth of a dragon. _Hoenheim_, Ed's memory labeled him, or _father_. But Albus' memory told him something else. There were a few differences, but there was no mistaking the eyes.

_Tom Riddle. So this is why you abandoned your son._

* * *

**A/N:** For those who haven't read the 6th book, Tom Riddle Sr. abandoned Voldemort's mother, Merope, when he was released from the love potions she was feeding him...  
Oh, and did anyone notice that Roy's memory of the funeral seemed to be altered in how he perceived Ed? (We're finally getting some fluff, people! Well, sort of...)  
**Please review.**


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N:** It's been a while, hasn't it? Not as long as the last wait, but... Anyway, longer update for you this time. Eight and a half pages on Word. Not bad, eh?

* * *

Severus Snape stared down at the redhead, disgust etched into his face. "So, you want me to help _you?_ Precisely why is that?"

"Because you're the only person I know who'd do it!" cried Ron.

"What gave you _that_ idea?" Severus asked, arching a thin eyebrow.

"You're a bastard and you love meddling in other people's affairs, that's what."

"Perhaps… Very well, I'll use my limited store of veritaserum on this wretched boy. Oh, and Mr. Weasley, see me for detention after class this Thursday."

Severus swept out of the room, cloak billowing behind him. As he strode through the halls, he wondered what could possibly be in this child's mind that was so horrifying. He was only a child, after all, but everyone seemed convinced that he was a threat.

Finally he stood, veritaserum in hand, staring down at the boy. As he was about to administer the potion, however, a wizened hand rested on his.

"Come, Severus, he has been through enough for tonight," said Dumbledore.

"Headmaster?"

"You wish to know about the child, I presume? Very well; I believe you should be aware that he is the half-brother of Lord Voldemort."

"What?" interrupted Severus. "Surely you jest. I would have known if the Dark Lord had a brother."

"He does not yet know himself. I need you to take this information to him, then return and report."

"You do realize that the boy will be taken to see him?"

"I am counting on it."

Severus studied Dumbledore's face, scrutinizing it for any trace of doubt. "Very well," he acquiesced.

* * *

Speaking with the Dark Lord had always made him nervous. The man (if he could truly be called that) had an intimidating presence, exuding a feeling of infallibility that mad Snape feel as though his darkest secrets were being proclaimed to the world.

His status as a double agent, in particular, was a source of unease. The Dark Lord had yet to doubt him, which made him wonder what the man was holding over his head.

Finally, the piercing gaze was directed elsewhere. Severus unconsciously let out a sigh of relief before he began his report.

"My Lord, through my investigations on Dumbledore's research, I have found some disturbing news. It seems…" Here he faltered before seemingly regaining confidence. "It seems that you have a surviving relative. A half-brother by the name of Edward Elric. He is at Hogwarts as we speak."

Voldemort's heated glare quickly swung back to his servant's face. "You are sure?" he hissed.

Severus felt pressure building inside his head, undoubtedly from Voldemort's attempts to break into his mind. Nevertheless, he maintained his composure. "Yes, Lord."

"How interesting… Nagini and I will have to meet him… Have Lucius prepare a little welcoming party."

Snape continued to kneel. He didn't want to play this part, even knowing what Dumbledore was planning, but he had no other choice. He was simply a pawn in this game, so he fulfilled his role. "Yes, Lord."

* * *

Ed woke slowly, struggling for consciousness. _Where am I?_ he wondered as he opened his eyes. His blurry vision showed nothing but white.

Finally, his vision cleared, and he was able to look at his surroundings. He was in a small bed with white sheets that stood in a white room with its duplicates. _A hospital?_

He slowly sat up, muscles screaming in protest, and tried to call out. All that emerged was a strangled squeak.

A flicker of motion in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Dumbledore was striding toward him, eyes resting squarely on his face. Ed suppressed a shudder; the old man's gaze was unnerving.

"Edward, I see that you are finally awake. How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I suppose," he said. "That's not what you really want to talk about, though, is it?"

Dumbledore almost smiled; the boy's intelligence reminded him of himself when he was younger. "Perhaps, my boy. It turns out that there is something else I have to ask you. Have you ever heard of a wizard named Tom Riddle?"

"I don't believe so… Why do you ask?" _It has to be important, or you wouldn't look so strained as you say that._

"No reason," was the glib response.

_Liar._

Dumbledore watched as the young man's stare became slightly accusing, though the suspicion was well masked. _I suppose he's caught me,_ he thought with good humor. _He won't ask, though. Not today._

He smiled and gave an insincere farewell, as well as some slightly more sincere wishes for improvement, before turning away.

_That little question and answer session was entirely unproductive. The way he saw through my lie like that was extraordinary; I'm not sure I'd be able to tell if he was lying to me. Could he possibly know of his relation to Voldemort? Is that why his memories of his father were so bitter? His meeting Voldemort is the only way to tell for sure whether he is trustworthy or not._

_But if it's so likely he isn't, why do I feel guilty about this plan?_

* * *

[Ed's POV_  
_

After Dumbledore left, I sat next to Roy's cot, worrying. I had heard from Madam Pomfrey that Roy collapsed soon after I did. Was it guilt? Was it concern? Or was I selfish in thinking that his collapse had anything to do with me?

I rested my hand on his forehead. It was quite warm, indicating that he had a fever. His face was contorted, betraying immense pain.

_I miss you, bastard. Just come back to me, and I'll tell you that I missed you._

I sat with him for hours before exhaustion overcame me and I slept.

* * *

When Roy woke, the first thing he noticed was a blonde head resting beside him. As he turned to look, Ed stirred and opened clear golden eyes.

"You're awake," said Roy.

"So are you. I missed you…"

Roy, as uncomfortable as he was with open displays of affection, still reached out and hugged Ed, cradling the smaller alchemist to his chest.

"I was so worried," he whispered.

"I'm fine. You should be worrying about yourself…"

They spent hours there, basking in each other's presence, both understanding what was never said.

_I love you._

* * *

Everything was hazy when Ed slowly drifted back into consciousness. He was laying in Roy's arms, warm and safe.

Except not everything was right; there was a strange presence in the room, someone who shouldn't be there. Unwillingly, he opened one smoky golden eye. A tall blonde man dressed in long black robes stood next to them.

Surprisingly, he didn't remark about Ed being in bed with an older man. He stared slightly and smirked, but refrained from commenting about it. "Edward Elric?" he stated more than asked. "Come with me."

Ed eased off the cot. "Why? What happened?" he asked as he dressed himself in his usual black-and-white attire.

"Lord Voldemort wants to see you. You may not recognize the name, but he is an acquaintance of Dumbledore."

Something bothered him (though he couldn't quite say what) so he pulled away. "If this Lord Voldemort wants to see me, he can do so in person, instead of sending one of his lackeys to fetch me like a dog."

The man looked at him oddly –in amusement, perhaps?– and his smirk widened. "I thought you might say that," he said as he pulled out his wand. "Stupefy."

* * *

Harry was tired. He had been reliving some of the most horrifying memories imaginable nearly nonstop for the past several days. Eventually, he had stopped reacting to the stress and hopelessness of his situation. His mind couldn't take any more of the torture, so it no longer reacted.

He was dying as his mind slowly shut down.

Then the scenery changed. He was standing in front of _it_, the monstrous thing that had taken the professor's arm and leg.

A kind-looking woman stood in front of it, her body completely transparent. Her long brunette hair framed a worn and tired face. She smiled reassuringly at him, but her smile was tinged with sadness.

"You know him, don't you?"

Her voice echoed in the empty space, surrounding him, filling him with emotion again. His dormant mind began to slowly move again, consciousness returning.

"Know who?" he asked, mouth struggling to shape the words.

"My son."

Harry stared at her, taking in every detail of her face. She seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite remember who she reminded him of…

He gasped as recognition struck him. The last time he had seen her, she had been a wheezing, bloody pile of organs struggling to cling to life.

"You're the professor's mother!" he cried.

"Yes, Harry. My son needs you right now. The Death Eaters have him and I'm afraid he won't live much longer." Tears formed and flowed down her cheeks.

For some reason, this made him angry. He didn't know why, but irrational frustration built until he could no longer contain it. "What do you expect _me_ to do about it? I'm trapped here! Why do people always expect me to do their work for them? I may be the Chosen One, but that doesn't mean I'm going to go around helping people like a saint!"

The brunette in front of him was joined by another woman. This one had black dreadlocks that swung behind her as she stepped forward and grabbed him by the throat.

"Edward and Alphonse Elric meant more to me than any other pupils of mine. They were like me own sons!" She looked at the brunette apologetically. "No offense meant."

The other woman smiled. "None taken."

The she-devil's gaze came back to him, and he flinched. "I will not let some pathetic coward like you be the reason Edward dies! Either get off your lazy ass or I'll kill you here and now!" she roared.

Harry twisted in her grip, trying in vain to break free. "Let me go!" he sobbed.

"The only way you're getting out of here alive is if you wake up and save him!" yelled the woman.

Harry fought and scratched as her grip tightened until his throat had gone numb from the pressure. Instead of choking him, though, the hand slipped through his neck as he became insubstantial.

"Thank you," whispered the brunette. "Please, tell Ed that neither of us blames him for what happened. He couldn't control death any more than we could…"

Harry nodded as he felt himself dragged backward, feeling a vague sensation of rising as he re-entered the world of the living.

His eyes opened for the first time in days. He sighed happily, glad to be awake again. Joy quickly turned to worry as he remembered the dream he had. Turning, he saw Roy sitting up in bed.

"Professor Mustang, where is Professor Elric?"

The man's face tightened slightly. "I don't know," he replied softly.

"It can't be… It can't be true! If they had him, surely you would know by now," babbled Harry, panic setting in.

"What are you talking about?" asked Roy, crossing the distance between them and shaking Harry. "Do you know where he is?"

Harry looked at Roy with pure certainty. "Death Eaters have him."

"Who?"

"You don't know?" interrupted Hermione, who had entered unnoticed, redhead trailing behind her. "They are murderers, followers of Lord Voldemort, the most powerful dark wizard ever to have existed."

Roy stared at her. "They have Ed," he whispered.

She blanched. "If that's true, then we need to tell Dumbledore. He should be able to figure out where they're hiding."

Roy stood unsteadily. "Let's go, then," he said. Ron and Hermione stepped forward and caught him as he swayed, nearly falling. They eased him back onto the cot.

"You probably shouldn't be standing yet," said Harry. "I certainly don't think I could."

"But I have to see if he knows where Ed is!" snapped Roy.

Hermione sighed, muttering something that sounded like "_boys_" before turning her back. "Can you at least get dressed first?"

He sighed and dressed himself, then permitted Ron and Hermione to help him walk by supporting his weight. Half an hour or so later, he found himself standing in the headmaster's office.

"Mr. Mustang, how nice to see you on your feet again," greeted Dumbledore.

"Cut the crap. Where's Ed?" he retorted.

Dumbledore sighed and hustled about, making tea. It was unnecessary work -he could simply wave his wand and conjure tea from thin air- simple done to postpone the inevitable need to answer. The tension in the room slowly built as the oppressive silence continued until it became nearly tangible.

Roy's desperate and accusing glare never left the headmaster's face. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he received a reply.

"He is with Voldemort. I cannot tell you their exact location, for various reasons, including the fact that I simply do not know. If I did, though, the situation would not change. Edward is where he is out of necessity; it is both a test of his loyalties and a chance to establish another spy in the Dark Lord's ranks."

"And what about Ed? Are you just going to leave him there to be tortured?" spat Roy, his hands balled into fists and shaking in barely suppressed fury.

He knew the answer before it was even spoken.

"Yes."

What sent him over the edge was the calm and calculating expression resting on the old man's features. There was not a hint of self-doubt, only a need to see the outcome so he could continue plotting.

As that single damning syllable was uttered, Roy strode forward and slapped the manipulative bastard across the face as hard as he could.

To his credit, Dumbledore stood his ground, accepting the blow as it came and refusing to so much as stagger even though the blow would have sent most normal men to the ground.

"I understand that it may be hard for you to accept, but there is nothing you can do right now," he said as kindly as he could. "And if you wish to stay here in the hope that Edward will return soon, you must continue to teach. I will have my hands full with locating and attempting to contact him, so I cannot have the Ministry breathing down my neck and questioning why you are here. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Roy answered stiffly. "You had better find him quickly, though. Excuse me; I have a class to prepare."

He walked away as quickly as he could.

* * *

The next day's classes were incredibly stressful. As the first batch of students strode into the classroom, he suddenly found himself struck by a wave of loneliness. Even surrounded by people as he was, he found himself missing the presence of his blonde alchemist.

"Class," he began dully after the bell rang," despite the absence of classes over the past week or two, I still expect you to have done your homework. Now, by a show of hands, who did?"

Nearly half the students raised their hands.

"If you are not confident in your ability to recite the entire periodic table without fault, when I call on you, lower your hand."

All but one hand went down.

"Very well. It seems as though Miss Granger was the only one to do her homework. Twenty points to Gryffindor. If more people don't follow in her footsteps, they will lose House points next class. At the moment, I would strongly urge most of you to drop the class. Those who wish to do so may speak with me after the bell rings."

"Where is Professor Elric?" asked Lavender Brown.

"He's sick," Roy lied. He didn't want to face the truth if he could avoid it. "Now, today we'll be learning some basic transmutation circles. Pay attention, because copying something down incorrectly can have disastrous results…"

* * *

Ed was in a small, dark room that reeked of blood and mold. His arms and legs were bound, and he had a great many bruises from his journey.

_((He woke at some point during his abduction, and found himself held in midair by some sort of spell. He moved slowly, so as to avoid catching the attention of his attacker, and looked around._

_His attacker, at least, was familiar. It was the same blonde man that Ed had seen in the infirmary. His surroundings, though… They were on a lumpy, ill-made brick path that was beginning to disintegrate into dust. Small, dark houses stood on either side in a state of disrepair. Many had collapsed roofs and boarded-up windows. In a few, tiny, beady eyes shone through the darkness, reflecting what little light there was to be had._

_Ed moved slightly, testing his bonds. They were loose; the man obviously wasn't paying attention to his captive._

_He waited until he saw a side street that he could escape on, then jerked violently, disrupting the man's concentration. When he fell to the ground, the air was forced from his lungs, causing him to gasp slightly. Nonetheless, he picked himself up, grabbing his wand from a pocket in his assailant's robes, and began running._

_At first, he ran without direction, turning when the opportunity presented itself. His captor soon fell behind, footsteps fading into the distance. Eventually, though, the buildings blended together, and he could not remember where he had been._

_"Point me," he whispered to his wand. The wand slowly moved, pointing to his right. He turned, but when he entered the shadows of the alley, a smooth voice called out to him._

_"Where do you think you're going?" it asked, cruelty and disdain emanating from it._

_A hand found its way onto Ed's shoulder. He thrust his elbow backward, and was rewarded with a heavy gasp from his attacker._

_Once again, he tried to run, but more hands awaited him. He fought back, injuring several members of the group, but the sheer numbers eventually overwhelmed him.))_

So now he sat in his dark cell, waiting to see what judgment would befall him.

* * *

**A/N: **I just had to throw Izumi in there somewhere. She's awesome.  
On another note, don't get the idea that I don't like Dumbledore. I _do_ think he uses people, though, in a "the end justifies the means" sort of way...  
Please review.


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait. On the bright side, it's fairly long and I have part of the next chapter done already!  
Thanks to everyone who reviewed! (You guys are awesome.)  
As always, italics are either thoughts or emphasis.

* * *

The next morning dawned grey and gloomy. Heavy grey clouds hung in the sky, looking as though the heavens would weep. The only movement was the slight crinkling sound of shifting leaves as a cold breeze blew through them.

Ed could see none of this from his cell. He was curled up on the ground, eyes half closed. He hadn't been able to sleep much the previous night, mostly due to the soft echoes of footfalls through the hallways and the feeling that he was being watched.

There was a snake outside the barred door of the cell. The snake itself didn't bother him; after traveling for so long, he was used to snakes. It was the eyes. Those eyes were far too intelligent to be those of a common beast; they never moved from him. The serpent hadn't blinked once that he was aware of.

So now he lay on the floor, looking as though he was engaged in some sort of strange staring contest with the reptile, and losing badly.

Finally, hours later, a fat, trembling man walked to his cage. The snake eyed him distastefully and slithered away as the man neared and produced a bunch of keys from the sleeve of his robes.

"The Lord Voldemort wants to see you," he stammered as he unlocked the cell door. As Ed stirred, the man pulled a wand form his sleeve as well, eliminating any possibility of escape.

Ed tried to keep track of the labyrinth of hallways as he was led through, but hunger and exhaustion soon left him disoriented.

Eventually, he was led into a small chamber that contained little more than a pallet and a table. A cloaked figure sat at the table, a chess board set in front of it. It motioned with one hand to the empty chair across the table, simultaneously dismissing its servant with a glare.

"So you are the infamous Edward Elric. Come, sir," it hissed more than stated.

Ed obeyed, his legs moving nearly by themselves.

"I have heard much about you. Tell me, do you know a man named Riddle?"

"No."

"What was your father's name, then?" A slender, white hand reached out and moved a pawn on the board in front of them. Red eyes stared from beneath the hood of the cloak.

"Not that it's any of your business, but it was Hoenheim. Why does it matter?" Ed also moved a pawn, responding to the unspoken challenge.

"Such a pity he left you," Tom whispered. "And to think, he didn't even stay loyal to your mother… He came back to you, though, did he not?" Another pawn.

"How do you know about him?" A bishop this time.

"He wasn't loyal to your mother, to you… He found another woman, who bore me." Tom moved a knight, then reached up and pulled back the hood of the cloak, exposing his pale, flat features to the little light that was in the room.

Ed stared at him in horror. His hands shivered as he forced himself to continue playing the game, to avoid showing weakness. His thoughts, though, were in utter turmoil.

_Why? How could he betray mom like that? He loved her; I know that much. If he didn't, she wouldn't have died waiting for him. So how could he betray us?_ asked one voice in his mind.

Another, quickly squashed, argued in Hoenheim's favor. _He looked so sad when he returned. He obviously didn't _want_ to betray her. You have no proof either way! It's possible that he was coerced!_

"Yes, he went back to you," Tom sneered. "He left me behind, discarded like old trash, so he could return to his precious, _beloved_ family."

"It's not like he wanted us, either. We waited years for him to come back. Years! Everyone dying while he was away… And then he came back as though nothing had ever happened, then walks out on us _again_. Ironically enough, the only good thing he ever did for us was die."

"At least he cared about you," hissed Tom menacingly.

"Did he? He couldn't have been with _you_ for ten years."

The pieces on the chess board began piling up on the side as the players vented their frustrations. Soon knights, rooks, bishops, and even a queen adorned the growing pile.

The game ended as a draw, both sides refusing to give in.

Tom stared at his younger half-brother in a perplexed manner. The boy was small, deceptively so, but obviously intelligent, judging by his skill at chess.

The boy's eyes were what he noticed first, other than the height (or lack thereof). They were an unnatural golden hue and seemed to be seeing through whatever they were staring at. They had seen far too much for such a young age.

The boy's skin was tan and weathered, though dirtied and bruised from his abduction. His clothes were overly formal, and the gloves seemed out of place. Inspecting the gloves more closely, he noticed as a metallic sheen just above them caught the sparse light.

"Take off your gloves," he ordered, performing a silent _imperius_ curse.

Ed tried to resist, annoyed, but his arms jerked independently, removing the gloves regardless of his resistance.

Tom could not help but stare as dully gleaming metal was exposed. "Your arm is prosthetic?"

"Yes. Before you ask, it's not Hoenheim's fault. Why do you hate him so much, anyway?"

"My mother used a potion to make him fall in love with her. After a while, she couldn't bear to continue drugging him. As soon as the filthy muggle returned to his senses, he left. Of course, I killed him later for his conduct. Or I thought I did, until I learned that he was apparently with his _other_ son after death."

"How long was he with your mother?" _How long did he wander before coming back? How long did he make mom wait?_

"A few months, perhaps. Muggles have no sense of duty."

Ed slammed his hand on the table, making a slight dent. "Don't you dare pass judgment on all muggles based on his actions! My mother was a muggle, and she worked herself to death trying to care for me and my brother after Hoenheim left! Not all muggles are worthless!"

Tom stared. "Are you done? Good. You seem to have an intelligent mind, though you also seem a bit rash. Your wand choice makes sense now." He pulled Ed's wand from a pocket in his robes, turning it in his long fingers. "A basilisk fang, symbolizing strength. Thestral blood, showing a shadowed path and an affinity for death. Steel… Well, the explanation for that is fairly obvious." He motioned to the metal hand.

"You have potential, I'll admit that much," he continued. His next sentence, though, delivered a crushing judgment. "At the moment, however, you're nothing but a sentimental fool. You're weak. I can help you change that."

Ed leaned forward, face devoid of emotion. "Go to hell."

Tom's smooth face contorted into an evil sneer. "You'll come around quite soon. I'll make sure of that. Until then, Mr. Elric. Malfoy!"

Lucius strode into the room, a puppy obeying his master's summons, and guided Ed back to the cell. At the point of a wand, of course.

Ed winced at the squeal of the cell door as rusty hinges protested their movement. Lucius pulled his wand from his jacket and flicked it, conjuring a large, padded chair. He sat, staring into the cell.

"So this is the great Dark Lord's brother? Don't make me laugh. You're nothing but a filthy mudblood."

Ed twitched slightly, wanting nothing more at that moment than to strangle the older man. "At least _I_ don't have to lick anyone's boots to get what I want."

"You seem rather attached to that friend of yours… Roy, right? It would be absolutely delightful to see your face if something happened to him." Ed blanched, but Lucius didn't appear to notice, continuing on. "After all, I have so many connections in side of Hogwarts that I'm sure it would be rather easy for someone's hand to slip over his food. How should I do it? A fast or a slow-acting poison? I'm rather partial to slow, myself; the agony on the victim's face is priceless."

Ed's face contorted in rage. He clapped his hands and was about to place them on the floor when a beam of light shot out from Malfoy's wand and hit him in the chest, knocking him back into the wall. He fell to his knees, couching, small specks of blood littering the floor.

"Now, now, you really don't want to try that. I realize that you're mad at me, but we know all about your little magic trick there. You felt like you were being watched earlier, and that's why you didn't escape then, correct? You didn't want to show us your precious alchemy. Well, I have a secret for you."

Ed jumped as Malfoy disapparated and appeared next to him, whispering in his ear.

"We know everything."

Lucius began pacing around the cell. Ed tried to ignore him, pulling his hair out of its braid (which had been falling out anyway, due to rough treatment during his abduction) and running his fingers through it.

At this point, Malfoy turned and looked at him, putting a halt to his pacing. "My wife is rather… angry at me for allowing our son to follow the Dark Lord, so I have found myself lonely of late."

"Good," Ed interrupted.

"No, it isn't. Not for anyone concerned. You see, you're a very pretty young man, and I haven't found pleasure in another's company in quite some time." He drew closer, reaching out a hand to finger Ed's hair. "Perhaps if you helped me, I could help you find a way out of here.

Lucius felt a sudden explosion of pain in his jaw as the smaller blonde's fist connected. After that, he lost consciousness.

"Idiot. Why would he tell me if he already knew about my alchemy? Now I don't have to bother hiding it." Ed clapped his hands and pressed them to the lock on the cell door, opening it. He strolled out, then began attempting to navigate the seemingly endless labyrinth of underground passages until he could find the exit.

* * *

It had been thirteen hours, twenty-three minutes, and five seconds since Ed was abducted. Not that Roy was counting or anything.

He sat at the teacher's table in the Great Hall, oblivious to the chatter that surrounded him. His food, while in pieces, had not been eaten; he had simply torn it to bits while worrying.

He was jolted back to Reality when someone called his name.

"What?" he asked.

"Honestly, it's about time you heard me. I called your name eight times," Hermione said. "I was wondering how Professor Elric is."

Roy stared at her, wondering how he was supposed to know.

"During class, you said he was ill, right?"

"Oh, yes. He's not doing very well. I don't think his immune system has fully adapted to this world yet."

Hermione looked suspicious, but let the subject drop and returned to her friends.

Roy started worrying again, realizing the truth of his statement. He and Ed had been sleeping more than usual, eating less, and constantly feeling exhausted while they had been in England. All of the symptoms pointed to fatigue and illness.

_Life sucks_, he thought, _and I'm getting tired of babysitting these brats. …I wonder if I could burn a few._

* * *

Ed sneezed. He had been wandering in the halls for a while now; he wasn't sure exactly how long. Even with his alchemy, he could only create doorways in one or two walls at a time, for fear of the structure collapsing. Since he didn't know where the exit was, he was scurrying around like a mouse trying to find the cheese.

He had heard voices not too long ago, people shouting directions for a search party. He had nearly been discovered by one group, but he escaped thanks to his alchemic skills and a beautifully executed ambush. Needless to say, he hadn't seen that particular group since.

He stopped, looking around. This spot looked familiar… Of course, the corridors all looked nearly the same, which was the main reason he was so lost, but he still had this feeling…

Well, he had been turning right most of the time and hadn't gotten anywhere, so he tried turning left. He continued on for quite a while, silently considering the situation.

_Hoenheim left when I was only a few years old, and Al doesn't even remember it. I wish I could say that he didn't want to leave, but I don't really know. I remember being mad at him for years, even after he came back. I don't think I forgave him until he died._

_Was he sorry to leave? He looked sad, if I remember correctly, but how could he be if he was under the effects of a love potion? Could it have been a spell that put him under the caster's control? Is there even such a thing?_

_The timeline of events seems wrong. Voldemort is older than I am. Is the flow of time different between the worlds? If it is, it moves faster here. So if I ever get home, it may not have been too long since I left._

Wrapped up in his thoughts, he failed to notice the approaching Death Eaters until they were nearly on top of him. At the last moment, he ducked into a side chamber, shutting the door behind him. He only realized where he was when a hissing voice addressed him.

"Fools. They're not even able to find one person in a single house. Pathetic. I do _so_ wish that I could dispose of them."

Ed turned to face his elder half-brother, wincing as the flat face and narrow, slit-pupiled eyes came into view.

"But, sadly, I do not yet have enough followers that I can rid myself of so many."

"What do you want?" Ed asked.

"You. I want you to join me on my mission."

"How can I trust you if you can't even tell me the real story behind our father? If you're going to lie, you should at least to enough background research to know whether you'll be caught or not."

A look of surprise flitted across the Dark Lord's face before his features arranged themselves in a slight smirk. "You are much more intelligent than I gave you credit for. Yes, I lied to you, but you really can't expect me to spill my life's secrets to a complete stranger?"

"Fine. You don't have to tell me your life's story, but can you at least tell me one thing?"

Tom raised a nonexistent eyebrow. "What?"

Ed tried to decide which of his questions would gain the most answers, then spoke clearly. "Did you know that he wasn't a muggle?"

Tom's usually stoic mask fell apart, leaving shock behind. "He was a wizard?"

"Not in the strict sense of the word. You see, in our world, there aren't any wizards. There is no magic."

"'Our world? ' How can he be anything but a muggle if there's no magic?"

_Interesting. He doesn't know about the parallel worlds, then, or about Al. Good. Al's safe._

"He was an alchemist, and a rather good

_(good may not be the _best_ term to describe him…)_

one at that."

"Alchemy? That is what you are teaching at the school, is it not?" He paused long enough for Ed to nod. "That answers one of my questions, but what do you mean about this other world?"

"If I tell you, will you let me go?"

"No."

Ed sighed. "I didn't think so, but will you at least teach me to use my wand properly?"

"I will, on one condition. You are to remember that when I tell you to do something, you will do it, if you don't want your friend Roy to find an unpleasant end. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes." His throat constricted, making it hard to say the word. He had to protect Roy, even if it was only from a distance, until he could escape.

"I do need you to prove your loyalty, however, and I have the perfect test for you. Malfoy has served me well by bringing you here, so he deserves a reward. I hear that he enjoys your company, so you will let him have sex with you."

Ed swallowed his disgust and nodded, Tom's earlier words still fresh in his mind. _If you don't want your friend Roy to find an unpleasant end…_

* * *

Malfoy smirked as soon as he heard the news, eager to get on with business. He strode over to Ed, placing his hand on the small of the boy's back and guiding him into an adjoining room. The room was bare, with plain stone walls and only a bed for furniture.

The alchemist quickly strode over to the bed and sat, leaning back against the wall and clapping his hands discreetly.

When Lucius finished closing and locking the door, he turned to the bed, glad to see that his companion showed no signs of struggling. He walked to the bed, placing a leg between Ed's knees, slowly pushing them apart. Lowering his body to Ed's, he shoved his mouth over the boy's. However, his progress was soon stopped by an ornate stone dagger.

"Get the hell off me!" Ed snapped.

The older man had no choice but to comply, though he tried to reach for his wand. Ed quickly put a halt to that idea by pressing the point of the dagger against the man's throat and taking the wand himself.

"We'll stay in here for a little while," he said. "During that time, you will tell me as much as you know about this organization. When I say enough time has elapsed, you will go outside and act like you just had some very good sex, or I will kill you. Understand?"

Malfoy nodded.

Ed took great pleasure in seeing blood beginning to well on his blade. "Start talking," he said with a smirk that made the older man's blood run cold.

Lucius sang like a bird.

* * *

Tom paused to consider his little brother as Malfoy guided him into a side chamber. The boy was hiding something, that much was obvious. Still, he had very nearly proven himself obedient enough to keep.

_Why do I feel guilty?_

He shouldn't feel guilty. Edward was only a tool, nothing more. But somewhere, deep within the dark recesses of his mind, a small, abandoned child cried out in guilt and pain.

_Stop it._

He was used to the child's screaming. It was a younger version of himself, he supposed, a remnant of a past not entirely forgotten, and it hated nearly everything he did. The child continued screaming, anguished, tortured cries that drove him to the brink of insanity.

_Stop it!_

_Why are you hurting people?_ the child cried. _Why can't you let him go? Just him? He's the only family we've got!_

_STOP IT!_

The child curled up and was silent; peace returned to his mind once more.

After some time passed, Lucius came out of the side chamber, looking happy for the first time in weeks. He gave Tom a short nod and a bow before gliding out of the room.

Tom stood and walked to the doorway, the scent of sweat nearly overpowering him.

A small blonde lay curled beneath the sheets of the bed, covered in sweat and bruises. He looked at Tom with a pleading gaze that asked one simple question:

_Why?_

Tom honestly didn't know.

Inside his head, the child started screaming again.

Ed turned his head away, smirking. His ruse was perfect.

* * *

**A/N:** I love writing crazy Voldemort... Anyway, hope you enjoyed. The next chapter should be up before too long.

**Please review. **


	12. Chapter 11

Karasu

**A/N:** Sorry this chapter is so late. Life's been really hectic. Thankfully, it recently calmed down, so maybe I'll get more time to write. No promises on an early chapter, though, because any time I promise something like that I end up jinxing it… sigh  
And sorry for any random things that pop up, like the "Karasu" at the top of the page… I don't know why it's doing that… FFN is being weird.

--

Roy entered his class nearly fifteen minutes late. When he arrived, the students were talking loudly and practically climbing over the desks. Various projectiles (paper airplanes, spitballs, fireworks, etc.) flew through the air.

He cleared his throat a few times to get their attention. Perhaps remembering the fiery display on the first day of class, the students immediately quieted.

As he went through the lecture on autopilot, his mind drifted to thoughts of Ed. After a while, his attention was brought back by loud sniggering form the back corner, where a group of Slytherins was sitting.

"What's so funny, Malfoy?" His tone was icy.

"Nothing of your concern, Mustang," Draco replied haughtily. "Just some chitchat among your superiors about Elric."

"Class dismissed," he said.

"But there are ten minutes left!" protested Hermione.

"_Class dismissed_," he repeated in a tone that left no room for argument. The class slowly filtered out of the room, leaving Roy alone with Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Why'd you send them out? Afraid to show weakness?" taunted Malfoy. "Afraid you can't handle me?"

Roy was pissed off. Ed was gone and some brat had information about him. One way or another, the brat would tell. "Plausible deniability for them and no witnesses to what I'm about to do. It's easier that way."

"Easier for you to beg for your bitch's life? My father said he was a good ride."

Malfoy had more to say, but Roy snapped, burning a large portion of the boy's body. The boy shrieked in pain as the flames licked at his skin, dropping to the floor and writhing in agony. He had only a brief moment to resent to resent following his father's orders before the pain robbed him of all rational thought.

Roy smirked, but his satisfaction only lasted until the smell of burnt flesh reached his nose, sending him back to the Ishbalan Massacre.

_A small boy stared at Roy as the alchemist looked into a ruined house. He held a gun loosely in his hands, but looked as though he was almost afraid of the thing._

_"It's okay," Roy whispered. "Put down the gun."_

_The child merely cocked his head, not understanding. Roy took a step forward and the boy, eyes widening, brought the gun into a shooting position. Roy snapped reflexively, and the boy dropped to the ground, dead in a matter of seconds._

_The smell of burnt flesh reached his nose, and Roy retched. He ran outside the hut and threw up. Outside was not any better; if anything, it was worse. Bodies littered the ground, and well over half the city was up in flames. Ishbalans ran for their lives, but they were quickly picked off by the military. The dead burned, and the smell of charred bodies lingered throughout the area in the form of smoke._

Disturbed by what he'd done, even if the still believed that Malfoy had deserved it, he instructed Crabbe and Goyle to take their friend to the hospital wing. He walked to his desk and slumped in the chair, watching the slightly blackened skin of the boy and the way his face contorted in pain at the slightest jostle of his burnt arm. His hand reached out, unconsciously grasping for a bottle that wasn't there.

"Roy Mustang!" yelled Minerva McGonagall, entering the room several minutes later, Snape trailing behind her. "What have you done to Malfoy?"

Roy stared into space, his mind occupied with other thoughts.

"Answer me!"

There was a long, awkward silence. Snape was the one to finally break it, saying "He was lying, you know. Draco was only saying what his father ordered him to."

Roy finally looked up at that. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Lucius is simply trying to protect his reputation." Snape was beginning to regret speaking up, since he had to explain his reasoning, but Roy's relieved face made him continue. "He likely had his life placed in danger by your little friend, and is overcompensating for that."

"What are you two talking about?" snapped McGonagall.

"Edward was kidnapped by Voldemort. He is the Dark Lord's half brother," Snape answered quietly.

Minerva was caught between disgust and pity for the boy as she considered the situation. Pity that he was kidnapped, combined with disgust that he was related to the monster who was responsible for most of the suffering of wizardkind.

_If such a young boy can hold so great an influence over Voldemort… We could gain unbelievable amounts of information from him. But it would be dangerous. Could I really send such a young man to certain death? _she wondered.

_No, I couldn't,_ she answered her unspoken question without doubt. _No matter how many people it helped, I could never force an innocent child to go to Voldemort's side._

"Does Albus know?" she asked.

Snape snorted; the closest he had ever been to laughing. "He's the one who found out," he answered in a dry tone.

McGonagall nodded, accepting this answer, then drew herself up, returning to the matter at hand. "Mr. Mustang, what did you do to Draco Malfoy?"

"I burned him." Roy didn't even look at her.

"For Heaven's sake, _why_?" she cried.

"I lost control."

"That is _not_ an answer! I demand that you answer the question!"

Roy turned and glared at her. "You want to know that I did? Fine. I wanted him to be in enough pain to tell me what he knew about Ed! He was saying that his father had raped Ed, so of course it stood to reason that he would know where Ed is, too! But I was angry, and I lost control, so now the boy is in the hospital wing looking like the people I killed during the war!"

By the end of this rant, he was practically shouting.

His mood took an abrupt turn. "Will he be all right?" he asked.

Minerva pursed her lips in a disapproving manner. "He should be, but perhaps you could have thought of that _before_ you roasted the boy? There's going to be trouble over this, you know. The Ministry will undoubtedly make inquiries, but we should be fine as long as Draco agrees not to tell his father."

She turned back as she left the room. "Roy… I hope they find Edward soon," she said, the turned again and left.

--

Hermione was angry. Very angry.

She had been there to take Mustang to Dumbledore when Harry had his dream about Death Eaters. However, the professor had lies to the student body, saying that Elric was only sick.

The question was why.

_I can't see anything that Mustang would gain with the lie, so there has to be some other reason. Either he's trying to keep people from worrying or he's part of the Ministry and he's trying to control public knowledge of Voldemort._

_Still, you'd think he'd remember that I was part of the group that told him Voldemort was the one behind the kidnapping._

She looked over at her friends, who were sitting near the fireplace and playing chess. Harry was losing badly, as usual.

"Don't you two find it odd that Professor Mustang is lying to everyone about Ed?" she asked.

"Don't worry 'bout it, 'Mione," replied Ron, taking Harry's queen with one of his knights. "He's probably just trying to keep people from bothering him about it, that's all."

"Or he could be working for the Ministry and trying to control public information about Voldemort!" she argued hotly.

"And you call us suspicious?" Harry laughed.

"Stop laughing! We haven't had any problems with the Ministry lately, and they're _always_ trying to interfere!"

"Still, 'Mione, don't you think you're jumping to conclusions?" asked Ron, putting Harry into checkmate and getting up. He walked over to her and pulled her into an awkward hug. "You're just over thinking, that's all. There can be coincidences in the world."

She pushed him away. "I am not jumping to conclusions, Ronald! It's a reasonable solution, and I don't want to talk to you until you recognize that!"

Ron simply stared at her as she stormed up to the girls' dormitory. "Think it's that time of the month, mate?"

"You have an amazing grasp of the obvious," Harry said dryly. "Another game?"

--

When Draco opened his eyes, he was immediately struck by waves of agonizing pain. His skin burned where his clothes touched it. He looked down, his neck screaming with the motion, and saw that, in some places, his skin was completely blackened. In others, it was blistering.

As soon as she noticed he was awake, Madam Pomfrey ran to his side, grabbing a bottle labeled "For Burns"- perhaps the least creative title he had ever seen. When she poured the contents of the bottle into a glass, they potion came out in thick lumps, looking for all the world like decaying brain matter.

The cup was placed at his lips, and he forced himself to swallow. His pain lessened immediately, and his burns slowly receded. Over the next five minutes, they nearly entirely disappeared, though the process left him feeling weak and disoriented.

"You're not going to be feeling normal until sometime tomorrow, so you're going to have to stay here for a while. You're lucky we had some of this potion still on hand from the last time Neville spilled one of his potions. My goodness, that boy is a handful…" Madam Pomfrey trailed of for a moment, obviously picturing the crowded hospital wing after each of Neville's accidents, before changing the subject. "Are you feeling hungry or thirsty?"

Draco shook his head.

"Then I'll be back to check on you in a little while," she said as she left.

Draco lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling and thinking. _Why did I have to say those things to Mustang? My father is all bluster, so I doubt what I was saying was the truth, but what is he doing with Elric?_

_That bastard. I wish he'd start seeing sense. There's no way that siding with Voldemort is going to be beneficial to us, but if I ever try to bring that up again, he'll disown me for sure. If I keep obeying him, though, I'll undoubtedly end up in a prison cell somewhere. Either way, I lose._

He trailed off with an unhappy sigh, which was interrupted as he heard footsteps. "Who's there?" he rasped, pain blossoming in his throat as he tried to speak.

"It's me," Roy replied.

Draco tried to pull himself out of bed, preparing to run. He found himself unable to sit up, falling back in pain.

"It's okay," Roy hastened to assure the boy, who had the look of a caged animal. "I just came to apologize."

Draco glared, suspicious of an ulterior motive. "Why would you do that? I obviously provoked you."

"Snape told me about your situation at home."

"He did _what_?" Draco interrupted, taken aback.

"He told me that you had no choice in what you said. Anyway, I wanted to apologize and tell you that if you ever need protection from Voldemort or your family, you can come to me."

"What makes you think that I need help?"

Roy raised an eyebrow. "If you could help yourself, you wouldn't have had to provoke me."

Draco was torn by this comment. On one hand, his pride told him to reject the offer. On the other hand, Mustang _did_ have a point. Conflicted, he stayed silent.

Roy turned to leave.

"Wait," Draco called. "Where's Elric? What's going on?"

Turning back, Roy sighed. He pulled a stool to the side of Draco's bed and sat before replying. "Ed is being held captive by Voldemort. They're - how do I put this? - they're related."

"Related how?" Draco interrupted. "And why would he abduct Elric?"

"You don't need to know."

"Don't you dare give me that! You owe me!" Draco snapped.

"Fine. Ed is Voldemort's half-brother. As for why he was kidnapped, it's probably _because_ they're related. That's more than enough."

Draco fell back in his bed, only realizing at that moment that he had pushed himself up onto his elbows while arguing. "Will you tell me if you learn anything else? Please?" That hurt. He hated begging.

"Why do you care?"

"Because whatever happens to him is partially my father's fault. I need to know," Draco replied honestly. _This is the most honest I've been in years. If I was in control of the situation, I wouldn't have to be so honest. I could lie all I wanted. I _hate_ losing control._

Roy nodded and turned to leave. "I'll let you know. And I'm serious; if you ever need help, you can come to me. Just don't put yourself back under his control."

Draco was left alone, with only his thoughts for company.

--

Roy paused outside the infirmary's door, staring at Draco as the boy tried to sleep. When he had first come to this world, he had thought it might be the fabled Shambala. He had quickly been proven wrong; even so, he hadn't thought that there would be anyone depraved enough to control their son's life in such a way, no matter what world it was. He still didn't want to believe it.

He turned away angrily, the halted again as he was struck by the irony of the situation. He and Draco were in the same situation, only the puppeteer pulling his strings was the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

Getting to the headmaster's office seemed to take an eternity. He had to avoid the other teachers, since word of Draco's punishment was sure to have gotten out and lectures would mean long delays, and the hordes of students made that difficult.

When he finally made it to Dumbledore's office (by threatening to transmute the gargoyles that guarded the entrance into piles of rubble) he was disappointed to find that it was vacant. While waiting, a flash of red and gold caught his eye.

A large bird that was seemingly made of fire sat in the corner of the room, though he could have sworn that it hadn't been there when he entered.

"Hello, gorgeous," he said, using the same tone of voice that he used while trying to seduce potential dates. He reached out and placed his hand on the bird's head; it leaned into his touch and crooned slightly.

(_Relax.)_

Roy jumped at the voice. "Who's there?" he asked, pulling his hand away and reaching for his gloves.

_(Don't stop. That felt good.)_

Roy looked down at the bird, which rubbed its head against his hand again. "You?" he asked incredulously.

_(Yes. It's me, Fawkes. You really ought to go find him. Albus doesn't want you to, but he's been different lately.)_

"Different?"

_(Yes. He used to be so concerned with helping the children survive, but he has turned into a kind of Machiavellian ruler. He seems to think that the end justifies the means, though he projects the image of being a savior. As long as Voldemort is defeated, he doesn't care how many lives are lost.)_

"He's going to sacrifice Ed?"

_(Yes. Go to him.)_

Fawkes suddenly stiffened. Roy turned and saw Dumbledore entering the room.

"What can I do for you, my boy?" the elderly wizard asked, his kind tone belied by his eyes, which were cold and hard as granite.

"You can tell me if you've found Ed yet," Roy replied smoothly.

"These things do take time, young man. I cannot risk exposure of our spies for the sake of saving one person…"

Roy narrowed his eyes, inconspicuously pulling on a pyrotex glove. "Spies in Voldemort's organization? So you've known where he is all along?"

Dumbledore, seeming to realize his mistake, started to placate the irate alchemist, but Roy would have none of it.

"Where is he? Tell me, _now_!"

"Did you forget our deal so soon, Mr. Mustang?"

"You're the one who broke it, not me. I quit." Roy turned and walked away.

"The ministry will be after you," Dumbledore called at his back.

Roy ignored him and kept walking, breaking into a sprint as soon as he was out of sight. He reached his room after only a few minutes, and he begin packing hastily. He took nothing but essentials: extra clothes, chalk, some money, a book of spells, and his wand.

Less than an hour later, he was headed towards Hogsmeade to get the latest gossip concerning Voldemort.

--

Rufus Scrimegour, recently named Minister of Magic, paced in front of his desk. He knew that the public disliked him, and he had no real way of gaining their trust. Voldemort had begun launching a new series of attacks since he had been named Minister, so the public had very little faith.

While pondering this problem, he noticed that the fire roared higher for a moment, revealing a cloaked figure.

"Who are you?" he asked, getting out his wand.

"Simply a friend," the man replied. "I want to help you."

Scrimegour considered this briefly. "How so?"

"The public doesn't trust you, but you can change this by capturing a Death Eater. There have been some recent additions to the ranks that should be easy to catch. Their personal information and pictures have been left on your desk."

As the man said this, there was a faint pop, and a few manila folders appeared on the Minister's usually immaculate desk. Scrimegour turned and looked through them briefly, the raised his eyebrows.

"Why are you helping me like this?"

"These men are problems for both of us. Goodbye, Minister."

The man disappeared. Ignoring this, Scrimegour turned his attention back to the pictures. _Edward Elric and Roy Mustang… They look easy enough to catch._

--

**A/N:** Please review.


	13. Chapter 12

Karasu

**A/N:** Wow, this is a fairly quick update for me… Anyway, I was wondering if interest in this fic has been declining… I haven't gotten as many reviews when I've updated, so can I get ten this time, please? I have other fics that I need to work on, and while I will never abandon this fic, I won't spend as much time working on it if not as many people want me to…  
Before I forget, a huge thanks to the people have been reviewing!

--

Roy sat in a small, dingy bar, nursing a glass of firewhisky. He had been searching for nearly a month for Edward. He had found little hints, clues, and tantalizing pieces of information that had pointed him in the right direction, though these were always accompanied by misinformation. He was close, that much he could tell, but he seemed to have hit a road block. Little new information had come his way in the past few days, and he was tired, dirty, and nearly broke.

He looked at his ever-dwindling supply of coins and sighed. If he wanted to continue searching, he would have to get a job.

From an optimistic point of view, if he got a job at a bar it would be an ideal place to collect any gossip that might be floating around. Even so, it was a rather serious setback.

Perhaps under the influence of alcohol, his mind drifted to a conversation he had held with Riza shortly before he was taken from Amestris, back when he had first realized the growing attraction he had for Ed.

_"Why, Riza?" he asked._

_"I honestly can't answer that. It's your decision, after all."_

_"But I've never felt this for a male before." _Except Hughes,_ his mind added. "You know me. I'm a womanizer."_

_She paused, placing her guns on the desk. "If you're not attracted to him on a completely physical level, which I assume you're not, given your previous partners, I can only guess that you are attracted to him as a person."_

_"The shrimp? Not possible."_

_"It's either that or simple lust, sir, and I think we can assume that your taste in partners hasn't changed this dramatically overnight."_

_"But he's _male_, Riza!"_

_"Sir, if you're simply going to repeat yourself, you might as well get started on your paperwork. It's been piling up for the last week."_

_"Are you not listening to me? _Male!_"_

_"Hey, the General's turned gay overnight?" Breda interrupted. The door to Roy's office swung open, revealing his subordinates clustered around it, obviously eavesdropping._

Roy smirked slightly as he recalled the fire he had produced. It had nearly burned down the entire headquarters… Only a very skilled team of alchemists had been able to restore it.

He looked down at his glass, only to discover that it was empty. He couldn't recall drinking the last of his whiskey. That was fine; he had more than enough money for one more, maybe even two or three. He looked down at his remaining money; he had far less than he remembered. How many of those firewhiskeys had he drunk?

It didn't matter, he supposed. He gestured to the bartender, a tired and shabby-looking man, who sighed as he approached.

"You've had enough," he said. "You're a very attractive man; I can't imagine that you have so many problems that you need to drown your sorrows in alcohol. You ought to go home."

Roy had just enough wits left to feel offended. He tried to stand, but staggered and fell back onto his stool. "You… look… tired," he managed to say, the words separated by long pauses and barely coherent.

The bartender crossed his arms in annoyance. "That's because there are drunkards keeping me here at ridiculous hours in the morning."

Roy tried to form an intelligent response, but failed. In indignation, he tried to stand. The room seemed to spin around him, and he fainted.

"What am I going to do with you?" the bartender asked the unconscious man. 'I had a dinner I was planning on going to. On the other hand, I never liked fancy dinners anyway. I guess I'll stay here and keep an eye on you."

--

It had been two months since Ed had been abducted, and he was quickly growing tired of acting. His magical skills had increased greatly over the time he had been in captivity, so it wasn't a complete waste, but constantly having to worry about staying in his half-brother's favor was both physically and mentally exhausting. He was convinced that the Death Eaters, Lucius Malfoy in particular, were purposely trying to make him fall out of the Dark Lord's favor.

Just the other day, one of the men had come up and molested him. Ed broke the man's nose, then immediately had to justify his actions to his brother.

Thankfully, Voldemort was incredibly possessive. He saw Ed as "his," and he refused to share the golden-haired alchemist with mere subordinates.

On the other hand, this possessiveness also made it incredibly hard for Ed to get alone time when he could no longer keep up his façade. Yesterday he had been forced to watch as Voldemort and his followers tortured a muggle woman. Her screams took him back to his failed transmutation, to the cries of the creature he had created. He wanted to run away from where they tortured her, but he noticed his brother's eyes following him. To show weakness was not acceptable; he was later struck for his squeamishness.

Imperfection was not allowed, either.

Voldemort seemed to have a strange fascination with him, as if being the only known member of the Dark Lord's family still alive made him special in some way. Of course, he had to live up to this prestigious title.

Stress from his position aside, the thing that worried him most was Roy. He knew how impulsive the General could be, and he was worried that the man would do something rash trying to rescue him. It was inevitable, really.

At the moment, he was standing to the side, watching a Death Eater meeting. Voldemort was trying to decide the best place to attack next, a place that would create mass panic among the wizarding populace. So far, the targets that had been proposed were the Ministry, Diagon Alley, and Hogwarts.

Eventually, Ed knew, he was going to have to participate in one of these attacks. It was only a matter of time.

He watched as Severus Snape stepped forward. The man seemed like a complete sycophant, but there was always something a little off about his suggestions. While they were always high-profile targets and incited great public fear, they seemed to have an almost complete lack of bloodshed. Ed had no choice but to conclude that the man was a double-agent working for Dumbledore, which meant that his one hope of rescue was gone, for if Dumbledore hadn't acted yet then he never would.

Today's proposed target? Gringotts.

Ed listened dispassionately as Snape explained that many of the goblins who worked at Gringotts were tired of living under human rule. Many of the Death Eaters protested, drowning the man out. Snape tried to talk over them, then gave up, throwing his hands in the air.

Briefly, Ed considered his position as the Dark Lord's kin, wondering if it would be enough to sway the mob's opinion. He hoped that he could convince them to take the less bloody alternative.

Hope. He almost laughed to himself; the laws of science didn't allow conjecture such as hope.

"Gringotts is a sound strategic location," he said loudly, quieting the Death Eaters, who were unused to him speaking. "Most of people's lives center around the economy, so attacking Gringotts, the only major bank, will give us a large measure of control over society."

The Death Eaters immediately began talking again. The room grew steadily louder as wizards lost their tempers, screaming curses at each other.

"Silence," Voldemort hissed. "We will attack Gringotts tonight. Dismissed."

Through the chaos of the room's occupants disapparating, Ed smirked slightly. His manipulation skills had also grown considerably over the time he had spent in captivity. Maybe- just _maybe-_ he was almost as good at pulling strings as Roy was.

--

Roy had been working in the bar for a month, and he was sick of it. He had gotten a variety of clues as to Ed's location, most of the conflicting. Also, the man who ran the establishment tended to leave suddenly- though this was always preceded by a glance at his forearm- and leave Roy to pick up the slack without extra pay. As it was, Roy often worked sixteen-hour days, making barely enough money to support himself.

However, he had mastered some intermediate spellwork during his extremely limited free time, as well as expanding his transmutation techniques. He now had one glove with the traditional fire array, while his other glove had a somewhat multi-purpose transmutation circle embroidered on it. Although it only affected stone, metal, and other earthy items, it greatly expanded his abilities during battle.

Tonight he was behind the bar, washing glasses and listening to the general babble that was inherent in the pub. In one ear he caught the words "attack Gringotts," which attracted his interest.

He walked over to the men from where the comment had originated, noting that their glasses were nearly empty. "Can I get you gentlemen anything?" he asked, making sure to play the role of a disinterested servant.

"Firewhisky," one said, while the other nodded.

"I'll make you a deal," Roy said. "Let's have a drinking game. If you win, your drinks are on the house. If not, I get an extra tip."

"Deal."

Roy got out three glasses, one reserved solely for himself. He poured firewhisky in all three, then touched the rim of his, activating the transmutation circle that was engraved in the bottom and burning away all the alcohol in his drink.

After a little while, the men in front of him were beginning to sway, their eyes glazed over. Roy set down his glass of water, for that was really all it was without the alcohol, and took a notepad and a quill out from under the bar, intending to take notes, if necessary.

"All right, gentlemen," he said, "let's begin. You are followers of the Dark Lord, are you not?"

They stared at him in confusion for a moment until one nodded.

"Do you know anyone named Edward Elric?"

One of the men, succumbing to the effects of the alcohol, passed out, falling off his bar stool and sprawling on the floor. The other simply shook his head.

"Look," he said dreamily, "a chicken." He pointed somewhere behind Roy's head and began giggling.

An unknown patron grabbed Roy's shoulder and demanded another beer. Roy shook her off; he had more important things to deal with. There were a few rude demands for him to get back to tending the bar, then the customers quieted down and left him alone, seeing that he was unmoved by their jeers and threats. He sighed. "Do you know where Voldemort is?" he asked the man in front of him, who was swaying back and forth and singing quietly.

"He'll lay waste cities, burn them to the ground!" sang the man, who was clearly beyond mere intoxication. "After we free the goblins, no money'll go around!"

Something clicked in Roy's brain. He suddenly recalled the conversation he had overheard earlier about attacking Gringotts. If the Dark Lord was attacking Gringotts, then Ed might be there as well.

He grabbed his belongings and ran out the door. Gringotts wasn't too far away; the bar where he worked was somewhere on Knockturn Alley.

Roy's breath came out in white puffs as he ran. It was late afternoon, perhaps five o'clock, and the sun was beginning to set. Winter was starting to set in, so people were beginning their Christmas shopping, getting a head start on the season. Roy nearly ran into several of these people, making them drop their purchases and begin cursing at him. Many of these curses he had never heard before; he could have sworn that someone yelled "Hagrid's butt crack!" at him, and somebody else yelled something containing the words "republicans!" and "soup!"

The oddity of these curses aside, almost everything looked normal. Oh, perhaps there was a shadow of fear in people's eyes due to the Dark Lord's recent activities, but it was quickly covered up by smiles and laughter.

When he finally reached Gringotts, perhaps half an hour later, the sun had completely set. And under the cover of night, who knew what was waiting?

He ran through the front doors and was equally joyous and disheartened by the normalcy of the scene inside. Goblins were weighing jewels and counting money, as usual, and not a single one of the people in the crowd looked suspicious. Although Roy was happy that there had been no attack and, therefore, no injuries, this was his only link to Ed's whereabouts.

Time to wait.

--

In the weeks since Roy's disappearance, Draco had found himself increasingly conflicted. The older man was the only person other than Snape to show him kindness, so of course his disappearance was cause for concern. However, Draco knew nobody who he could trust, so he had no idea who he could turn to for help in locating the alchemist.

He had considered many people: Snape, McGonagall, and even the Golden Trio. Snape did not know, and his status in Voldemort's army was often called into question, so trying to find someone through Voldemort's intelligence network would only get that person killed.

When he tried to talk to McGonagall, he was only brushed away. As concerned as the woman could be for her own house, she had little time for the children of darker families.

Draco considered asking other people but could find none trustworthy other than the Golden Trio. He kept procrastinating, trying to convince himself that the trio would never accept him, that it would be pointless for him to try to communicate with them. He knew otherwise, though, which was why he was in the library, walking over to Granger.

She had her nose in a book, which was typical for her, and she didn't appear to notice that Draco was there until he cleared his throat a few times. Then she jumped, glaring when she realized who had disturbed her.

"Go away, Malfoy," she hissed. "I'm not in the mood to deal with your holier-than-thou attitude, so shove off."

_Is that really how I appear to others?_ Draco wondered. It had been an act, of course, but to find out that he had pulled it off that well was a little disturbing. "It's not that," he said. "I just-"

"Wanted to call me a mudblood?" Hermione interrupted, practically spitting. "Good work. It's over and done with, so go away, you bastard!"

_Slap!_

Hermione paused, hand in midair as she stared at Draco's reddening cheek. He stared back at her for a moment before slapping her right back.

The succession of slaps had everyone in the library staring at them, Madam Pince in particular. She looked displeased that there was a fight taking place near so many valuable books.

"I just want to talk," Draco said as nicely as possible, given the situation.

Hermione glared at him for another moment, then relented and put away her books. She motioned for Draco to follow, leading him through a veritable labyrinth of hallways until they reached a portrait of a morbidly obese woman in a skintight pink dress. Draco winced at the image, secretly glad when Hermione motioned for him to turn around so she could whisper a password to the portrait.

He was led into a cozy room that was decorated entirely in red and gold. The decoration worried him somewhat.

"Granger," he drawled. "Why am I in the Gryffindor common room?"

"You said you wanted to talk, so talk. Don't worry; nobody will interrupt us. Everyone's at the Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor quiddich match."

Draco sat down, conjuring two cups of tea. He held one out to Granger, chuckling as she refused to drink until after he did. "I need to know what Dumbledore knows about Roy Mustang's whereabouts."

"Why what Dumbledore knows?" Hermione asked out of genuine curiosity.

"Well, I don't know where he is, and I find it highly unlikely that you and your friends do. However, with Harry being Dumbledore's golden child, he will have access to any information that Dumbledore may have."

"Why should we help you?"

Grey eyes dropped to consider a teacup. "Because I'm genuinely concerned. Because I'm not as bad a person as I seem, and I can prove it to you. But most of all, because Dumbledore is orchestrating most of this."

"That's a fairly far-fetched story."

"It's logical," Draco snapped. "Dumbledore doesn't much care for the children of dark families, and he's willing to sacrifice them if it means defeating Voldemort. He knows where Elric is because he has spies in Voldemort's organization, but he's done nothing. Therefore, I need to know what information he has on Mustang's location, and I will need your help hiding him when he returns."

"Why do I feel like trusting you? It doesn't make sense."

"Because you know I'm right?" Draco hazarded.

"That may have something to do with it, yes. Anyway, Dumbledore doesn't know where Mustang is, or he would have brought him back by now. I'm guessing that he's waiting for him to show up where Ed is. I'm afraid I can't help you any more than that, except to help hide him when he comes back. I can't speak for Harry and Ron, but I'll cooperate with you."

Draco visibly relaxed. "Thank you."

"Now, what did you mean by saying you aren't as bad a person as you appear to be?"

"Think about this: I have my own personality, a somewhat normal one, but I also have the person who my parents want me to be."

"That's ridiculous! They can't change someone's personality; it's a fundamental part of who they are!"

"They can certainly try, though." Draco stood and turned to leave, his sleeve riding up as he did so. Hermione could have sworn that she saw a latticework of thin scars crossing his wrist.

--

Night had fallen several hours ago, and Roy was having difficulty staying awake. It was starting to get cold, and he was starting to shiver. The few passersby were heavily bundled up, but Roy was not properly outfitted for cold weather. All he had were black boots, black pants, a black vest, and a white shirt. Not exactly designed for retaining body heat.

He had started out waiting in the bank, but the goblins were suspicious of anyone who loitered without making a transaction. Since he had no sums of money beyond what would fit in his pockets, he had no reason to do business with them, so Roy opted to wait outside.

Finally, there were a series of popping sounds to his left that woke him- though he wasn't quite sure when he had fallen asleep- as the Death Eaters began apparating in. There were nearly a hundred of them, and they began laying waste to the area. Multiple buildings caught fire; people ran into the streets, screaming, only to be caught and tortured by the Death Eaters. Roy was nearly sick at the sight- it reminded him far too much of Ishbal- but he steeled himself and began looking for Ed.

It didn't take him long to find the blonde, standing next to a serpentine man who had to be Voldemort. The Dark Lord wasn't hiding; he wanted people to know that this chaos was his doing.

Roy put on his gloves and snapped. Fire streamed toward Voldemort, but it was quickly dispelled. Roy wasn't finished, though; he slammed his other hand toward the ground, causing spikes to form and rush toward Voldemort. However, these spikes were deflected by a shielding spell.

"Roy!" Ed shouted in surprise. He tore free of the circle of Death Eaters that surrounded Voldemort and ran toward the older man. He knew what spell his half-brother would be casting next, and he had to prevent it…

"Avada –" Voldemort began, but he paused. Ed was now between him and the black-haired man who had attacked him, which set the child in his head to screaming. The child abhorred violence, but had learned to tolerate it; still, killing family was unthinkable. The child also felt betrayal that its brother would protect an assailant. The person he was now insisted on punishment. "Sectumsempra!" he cried in fury.

"To Roy, it looked like a fountain of blood erupted in front of him. When Ed fell, he finally saw the enormous gashes that crossed the blonde's chest. Roy caught him as he fell, noting how pale he was already from blood loss. Roy tore off his vest and pressed it to Ed's wound, trying to stop the blood from flowing. His wand lay on the ground, forgotten.

Voldemort frowned. The child in his head had redoubled its efforts in screaming, shrieking something about being too extreme in his punishment, but Voldemort merely ignored it as he usually did.

Roy noticed as a shadow fell over him and looked up to meet the Dark Lord's gaze. The serpentine man had a wand pointed at him.

Ed stirred. "Don't… hurt… him," he rasped to his half-brother.

Roy looked down momentarily. "Don't talk, Ed. Relax," he said, turning his attention back to the ominous man who stood above him. Voldemort stared back for a minute, then ordered two of the Death Eaters to come and apparate Roy and Ed back to Riddle Manor.

Roy tried to shake off the wizard's hand as it clamped onto him, but it was a halfhearted attempt; his main attention was reserved for Ed. He felt a pull at his body that went down to the atomic level, pulling him apart and hurling him an unknown distance, then reassembling him.

The first thing he did was try to staunch Ed's bleeding. The Death Eater goons immediately pulled his hands behind his back and pushed him forward, grinding his face in to the floor. Roy's eyes narrowed and he snapped his fingers. There was a large burst of heat, then the man screamed in agony and let go, falling to the floor and writhing.

Roy looked for his wand, but he couldn't seem to find it. His only other option was the medicinal alchemy that was practiced in Xing, which he thankfully knew the basics of thanks to his mother, who had been an expert in it. In fact, everyone in his mother's side of the family was from Xing, so he'd had little choice but to learn medicinal alchemy. Now he wished that he had paid better attention…

He drew the traditional transmutation circle, which housed a five-pointed star, then felt within himself, searching for the balance of elements that was inherent in every human body. He searched for Ed's elements, seeking the imbalance and correcting it. As always with this form of alchemy, there was a surge of warmth and an inexplicable feeling of rightness.

When Roy opened his eyes, Ed's wound had closed over. Tentatively, Roy listened to Ed's breathing and prodded his chest, searching for any lingering damage, but he found none. Ed still looked pale, though, from blood loss.

"You came," the blonde stated, looking miserable. "You bastard, you were supposed to stay somewhere safe."

Roy was somewhat touched at this gesture of concern, even if it was insulting. "Nice to know that I'm appreciated, shrimp. And I'm glad to see that you're well enough to insult me."

"I'd have to be dead not to."

Roy managed a slight smile at that. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by the arrival of Voldemort and the other Death Eaters. As they saw their fallen comrades, several of the Death Eaters ran forward, grabbing Ed and Roy and pinning them to the ground, thought the action was unnecessary in Ed's case. The Dark Lord instructed his followers not to unduly harm their captives, but otherwise he seemed uninterested in the method of their punishment. The two alchemists were forcefully dragged down a series of hallways and thrown into a cold, damp cell.

Collecting themselves for a moment, as well as nursing the bruises from the Death Eaters' petty revenge, Roy and Ed sat in silence for a long time. Soon they started shivering, and they unconsciously moved closer together for warmth. Roy was the one to finally break the silence.

"You never think about the people you leave behind, do you? I could see how conflicted you were when you saw me. You wanted to see me, but you also wanted me away from danger. But think about this: I'm an adult, Ed. I have the right to make my own decisions."

"You're the one who's making me worry! What were you thinking, diving headfirst into danger like this?"

"Only the same thing you were thinking for the Philosopher's Stone. I had someone I needed to help."

"But why?"

"I meant what I said before you were abducted."

Ed was silent for a moment. "So we'll go to hell together, then?"

For an answer, Roy leaned down to Ed, cupping the blonde's chin in his hand, and pressed their lips together. Ed stiffened momentarily in surprise, then melted into the kiss, returning it with equal passion. When the need for oxygen became overwhelming, they broke apart, panting slightly.

They looked at each other for a moment, Ed wondering how to proceed and Roy wondering if the younger man was willing. Whatever he saw in Ed's eyes must have reassured him, for he leaned forward and captured the blonde's lips again, beginning the process of removing their clothes.

--

**A/N:** So, who caught the Potter Puppet Pals allusion?  
Oh, and what would you think about me adding Harry/Draco or Draco/Hermione as a sub pairing? I would be spending more time with the HP group, but I think the pairings are cute, so… Yeah.  
As always, please review!!


	14. Interlude

Karasu

**A/N:** A few people wanted to know what was going on with Al, so we have a bit of an interlude here… And while I'm in an A/N, thanks to everyone who has been reviewing!

--

Al was depressed. He had tried to distract himself from this fact by immersing himself in life, busying himself with such things as volunteer work and wedding preparations. His wedding to Winry was only in a few weeks. He was excited, but he also felt like he was betraying his brother by marrying their mutual childhood friend.

Despite his busy lifestyle, Al was still unable to distract himself from how much he missed his brother. If he avoided thinking about it during the day, he inevitably became unable to sleep due to the flood of loneliness that would rush through him and the nightmares. The nightmares were terrible, full of pain, and so odd that they had to be true. The feats of magic (though he hated to call them that, these ignored all the laws of alchemy) that he had seen performed were incredible, but so many of them were painful and directed toward his brother… Winry tried her best to comfort him, but it only worked during the day. She and his brother occupied separate places in his heart; if the day belonged to Winry, the night belonged to Ed.

He sighed. It had been nearly two weeks since his brother and General Mustang had disappeared. He had thought that he was starting to recover from the emotional blow until two days ago, when several members of the military appeared and dragged him down to Central for questioning. Since these people were not members of Mustang's unit, they were unnecessarily harsh, even going so far as to accuse him of murdering Ed.

As soon as they did, he started crying. He couldn't take the stress of it any more. The male questioner seemed to take this as a sign of guilt, so Al was subjected to hours more of questioning.

By the next time he was asked if the murdered his brother, Al was so frustrated that he used alchemy to set the room on fire. If Riza hadn't vouched for him, he would have been hauled off to jail.

But now that life was settling down again and his old wounds had been reopened, Al was becoming severely depressed. Even his upcoming marriage to Winry failed to lift his spirits more than a little. He was going through life in an almost mechanical fashion, like the robots that Winry was always dreaming of building.

A voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Winry nagged at him, telling him that he was wasting the sacrifice that Ed and General Mustang had made by squandering his life like this. He no longer cared. He had considered human transmutation a few times, but he was always held back by the thought of how miserable this would make Winry and Pinako. Unlike Ed, Al always thought of the people left behind, perhaps in part because he so often felt like he had been left behind by his brother.

A small voice in the back of his head asked why he never did anything for his own happiness.

_Because it would make others miserable,_ he retorted, fully aware of how futile it was for him to be arguing with himself like this.

Even worse than his inability to do anything was what Riza had told him after she had kept him from getting arrested. She wanted his permission to hold a funeral for Roy and Ed. They wouldn't be officially declared dead for another few months unless a relative gave permission. Since Roy had no living relatives that anyone knew of, Riza wanted Al to declare the two of them dead- since Roy and Ed had disappeared together, the military believed that if one was dead, they were both dead.

Riza looked miserable when Al refused. Her reply was still running through his mind.

_"Alphonse,"_ she had said, _"I want to be here for the funeral. I have a disease called leukemia, and if I wait until the military declares them dead, I probably won't be alive to attend it. I… I just want to have the chance to say goodbye properly."_ She had started crying quietly, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast.

_"I'm sorry,"_ he had replied. _"But I don't believe they're dead."_

_"They performed a human transmutation."_

_"I know, but I can't bring myself to let him go."_

_"But-"_

_"No!"_ he had yelled, running from the room. He was sorry for her, and he knew she understood that, but his brother had been the only person in his life for years. He couldn't let go so easily. But if she was in the wrong, why did her sobs haunt him so?

Winry walked into the room, uncharacteristically quiet. "Al, dinner's ready. Will you come down?" When he didn't respond, she sighed and walked over, sitting next to him. "I was wondering if you're sure you want to get married. I don't want to force you into something you don't want."

He looked up, startled. "Of course I do!"

"Are you sure? Marriage should be a happy affair, and I don't want to cut into your grieving time for Ed."

He hugged her close. "Ed's disappearance and our marriage are completely unrelated. My grieving doesn't change my feelings for you."

She relaxed in his grip, content. Holding her in his arms, Al was finally able to let go of his worries. Although he would continue to grieve for a long time, Winry made him truly appreciate life- truly appreciate the sacrifice that Mustang and his brother had made.

--

The marriage was a small but joyous affair, though it was quite large by Rizembool standards. As was always the case for weddings, the entire town was in attendance, which contributed a mere seventy-three people to the gathering. What made this one unique was the presence of out-of-town visitors.

Riza had come down from Central, bringing with her the remnants of Mustang's team. Sciezka had tagged along as well, and her help with the preparations nearly ruined all of the decorations. It was only thanks to Al's skill as an alchemist that they could be repaired.

Riza was growing weaker by the day. Her disease had left her vulnerable to illnesses, so she had caught a rather nasty strain of the influenza virus, and she was coughing so hard that the alveoli in her lungs were starting to burst, leading her to cough up small amounts of blood on occasion. Havoc never once left her side, constantly there to catch her in her fainting spells.

Al looked around, unable to believe that it was his wedding day. The wedding was in an open field, but he had transmuted ornate stone pews in a mimicry of the church. Winry had originally wanted to hold the ceremony in the church, but Al had refused. He would have felt guilty for holding his wedding in a building that was sacred to a deity that he didn't believe in, so the closest they could come was a meadow with pews.

Al started, realizing that Winry was walking down the aisle. He stared in rapture at her, watching the sun glisten off her hair and kiss her face. If his eyes lingered on her chest longer than was proper, it was excusable; he was, after all, about to marry the woman.

The priest began the speech, and Al barely noticed, his mind too astounded by the fact that he was about to marry Winry forever. Thankfully, he started to pay attention just before it was time for him to speak.

"I do," he said, listening to Winry say the same. And just like that, he was married. He leaned forward and captured her lips less passionately than he would have liked, keeping the attentive crowd in mind. Winry tried to deepen the kiss, but he pulled away, whispering "Winry, there'll be plenty of time for that tonight," before turning to the crowd.

The reception was fun, especially when Sciezka had too much to drink and began dancing on the tables, but the only person Al could think about was his wife.

When Riza stood to make a speech, she was pale and shaking so badly that Havoc had to help her stand.

"When I first met Winry, I had always assumed that she and Edward were meant for each other. I'm not sure why- maybe it was the way she would beat him over the head with her wrench when he wrecked her automail."

The crowd laughed, and Riza continued on, visibly perspiring. "Now I'm rather happy that didn't happen. Any children from a union between those two would be irreversibly traumatized." More laughter. "A little while after I met her, I realized how close she and Al were. And now they're truly inseparable.

"As for Ed… Well, wherever he is, he missed one hell of a wedding." She raised her glass in silent apology to Al, her eyes reassuring him that he was right to believe that Ed was alive.

He thanked her silently, and she sat back down, looking reassured and much more peaceful.

Finally, _finally_, Al and Winry could leave. They were heading to a cabin at a nearby lake for a few days.

As Riza and Havoc were leaving, she stopped, coughing. She fell to her knees, Havoc supporting her as best he could. Soon specks of blood littered the ground in front of her, then those few specks turned into a puddle. She was coughing so hard that she could no longer breathe.

"Somebody help!" Havoc screamed.

His voice was the last thing she heard before she passed out.

--

_Beep._

The slight noise brought her to consciousness, and she lay there for a moment, regretting that she was awake. It was so tempting to simply fall back into that void, which was free of thought and pain.

_Beep._

Her lungs felt like they were on fire, and her head ached. Both were probably due to the fluid in her lungs depriving her body of oxygen.

_Beep._

That sound was beginning to get annoying, but it was all she could hear. It was the only thing reassuring her that she was alive. Finally, after an eternity, she heard voices. It seemed like Havoc was arguing with a doctor of some sort, so she was probably in a hospital.

"-too late for her. I'm sorry."

"What do you mean, 'too late'? You haven't done anything!"

_Beep._

"Because there's nothing to do. The leukemia has progressed to the point to where any illness that she contracts can run rampant through her body, like this one. Her body is beyond repair."

"Then go find someone who specializes in medicinal alchemy!"

Riza began ignoring the conversation. She was too tired for such an annoying argument.

_Beep._

She wondered how many people would mourn for her death. Havoc, for sure, though he would recover eventually. Armstrong, but he was optimistic at heart and would soon begin to see the beauty in the world again. Roy and Ed, if they ever found out. Fuery. Breda. Falman.

She could not think of anybody else. Perhaps a few people, but nobody close to her.

Not very many people would mourn. And every single one of them would recover, given time. So what was the point in living through pain only to die in another few weeks?

_Beep._

Such annoying sound. She wished it would just stop…

And so it did.

--

**A/N:** Please review!


	15. Chapter 13

A/N: Sorry for such a short chapter, but life conspired against me, and I wanted to get something up for you to read

**A/N:** Sorry for such a short chapter, but life conspired against me, and I wanted to get _something_ up for you to read. I feel so ashamed that I didn't get this up sooner, but I was busy and then had some computer problems and then I was busy again. Go figure.  
Anyway, thanks to CrimsonVixen333, Emeralde, Arivoctix, ketsuekilover, BloodRedViolet, PsychoB, and QHR for reviewing.  
Everyone else who's reading, please review as well!

-FFN has glitches, as usual…-

The morning dawned deceptively bright and sunny. Given that winter was approaching, the uninsulated cell where Ed and Roy were was downright freezing. Roy's breath had formed a layer of frost in Ed's hair while they slept, the blonde in the older man's arms, and they had long ago found it necessary to clothe themselves.

They were rudely awakened by a loud crash as breakfast fell to the ground in metal trays. The food in them was questionable at best; it seemed like some variation of oatmeal, but the small scraps of greenish mystery meat were less than reassuring.

Roy looked up at the Death Eater who had conjured the food and glared, dying to snap his fingers and burn the woman to a crisp. Unfortunately, Ed was laying on that hand. Noticing that the floor was made of stone, he smirked and slammed his other hand to the ground, causing a pillar to rise and hit the woman in the head, knocking her out. Oh yes, this earth-transmuting glove had definitely been a good idea.

"Nice hit."

Roy looked down. "Oh, you're awake? I'm surprised. There've been entire wars you've slept through."

"Bastard, why are you insulting me after I've complimented you?" Ed asked in a mock-wounded voice. "Of course, I could have hit better," he added in an undertone, fully intending for Roy to hear.

"Prove it."

Ed just smirked. "So, I'm assuming by the fact that you came to get me that you have some way of getting us out of here?"

"Have you learned to apparate?"

"No."

"Well, luckily for you, I have. Aren't I amazing?" Roy laughed slightly when Ed shook his head at that. "I need you to figure out where they're keeping our wands, then I should be able to apparate us both out of here."

Ed nodded, then clapped his hands and pressed them to the ground. The door to the cell practically melted away. "Have I ever told you how much I love alchemy? These wizards are completely helpless without their little sticks, but all we have to do is think a bit. Those idiots think they're practically invincible until their wands get snapped in half."

"In their defense, they don't have to follow laws the way we do." He held up a hand to forestall Ed's protest. "You're right, though. They could at least learn a little bit of self-defense."

They walked through the hallways, trading careless insults about wizarding practices. Somehow- neither of them was quite sure how- this playful banter morphed into a serious discussion about the threat that the Death Eaters posed.

"It doesn't matter whether they have a killing curse or not," Ed argued. "A spike through the heart will kill someone just as easily."

"True," Roy conceded, "but they have a myriad of spells for binding or otherwise incapacitating a person, and there's very little that alchemy can do to defend against them."

"But we have the reflexes to dodge or transmute a barrier."

Roy stopped, staring Ed straight in the eyes. "Ed, trust me on this. I know what large battles are like; they're absolute chaos. There's no way that you can see every attack that's coming your way, and I don't want you to get hurt because you underestimated them."

Ed leaned forward, pulling the older man's head down and pressing their lips together. They both leaned in to the kiss, tongues darting and tasting. When the need for oxygen finally became too great for them to bear, they unwillingly pulled apart.

"We'll be fine, Roy. Stop worrying."

They continued on their way in silence for a while, Roy trying in vain to memorize their route. Finally, he had to ask.

"Where are we going?"

Ed put one hand behind his head, trying hard to figure out how to doge the question. "Well," he began, "you see, I haven't been through here too often, and from what I've seen it looks like the maze moves, so…"

"You have no idea, do you?"

"Sure I do!" Ed protested. "Our wands will be in Voldemort's room."

"But how do we get there?"

"I don't know," Ed admitted. "How could you tell?"

"You were using the Fibonacci sequence for turns. One left, one straight, two right, three straight, five left… It was pretty obvious, actually. You do know, of course, that it wouldn't work in a conventional maze?"

"Of course. But it's a magical maze, and that's all that matters."

There was a pause. "Still, you don't actually think that people who are so dependent on magic would base a maze on the Fibonacci sequence, do you?"

Ed merely snorted in return. Roy was fanatical about obscure branches of mathematics, since some of them were the key to Xingian alchemy. He often assumed that others were as well acquainted with them as he was, so implying that the wizards were ignorant in this particular regard showed an exceedingly low opinion of them. Ed particularly enjoyed this fanaticism of Roy's; it was rare for either of them to find someone else intelligent enough to hold a good conversation with.

They walked right past the room before they realized it, then went back, feeling rather careless for not noticing earlier. The room was empty, thankfully, and Roy and Ed retrieved their wands without a problem. It was then that they both realized what was wrong: other than the woman who had tried to feed them, they had not seen a single Death Eater during the duration of their escape, and they had spent well over an hour wandering the halls.

"Any idea where they are?" Roy asked.

"None," Ed replied, sounding worried.

They paused, thinking. "Well, if every single Death Eater is involved, wherever they're attacking must be very well-defended, and it's got to be of some strategic importance," Roy mused.

Ed's brow furrowed. There were a very limited number of places that required so much manpower to attack. Of those, the two major ones were the ministry, which Voldemort practically had control of already, and… "They're at Hogwarts."

Roy didn't ask if he was sure, but merely nodded his acceptance of the assessment. He pulled Ed close, then raised his wand. They disappeared with a loud crack.

They were suddenly elsewhere, surrounded by trees. Although the forest surrounding them was a deep, healthy green, they heard no birds chirping. The only noise aside from their breathing was the faint rustle of leaves in the distance as unknown creatures passed by in near silence.

Roy frowned. "Where are we? I was aiming for Hogwarts."

"Then we're probably near there. Could this be the Forbidden Forest?" Ed asked, uncertainty tingeing his voice.

"It could be," said Roy, looking around. He couldn't find signs of any animal, magical or otherwise, within sight. (Of course, "sight" was only twenty yards or so, since the undergrowth was so thick.) However, he was almost certain that he saw a _mimbletus mimbletonia_, so this was almost certainly a magical forest. "Wherever we are, we'll get out eventually if we pick a direction and move in a straight line. I'll let you pick the direction, though."

"You just want to be able to blame me if we end up further from where we're supposed to be, don't you?"

Roy smirked, which was an answer in and of itself.

"Bastard."

"But you love me anyway."

Ed chose not to dignify that with a response. Instead, he set off in a random direction, Roy following close behind.

-FFN has glitches, as usual…-

**A/N:** Please review!!


	16. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Sorry for the wait... Life has been so incredibly hectic lately, and for the longest time I couldn't log in on my fanfiction account because my computer was on the fritz... Hopefully the next update shouldn't take as long.  
Many thanks to ILoveCockatiels, Tana Walker, CrimsonVixen333, Bankotsu's Sexy Bunny Girl, PrincessVictoriaAnnMacbeth, Sonia120462, Mez10000, and mrawgirl09 for reviewing!

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Hogwarts was in a state of complete and utter chaos as the much reduced staff tried to stem the flow of Death Eaters into the school. Voldemort's followers had broken through the wards of the castle around an hour earlier, and in the initial skirmish had killed over half of the Order of the Phoenix members. None of those who remained were unharmed, and they were quickly running out of energy as they tried to protect the remaining students.

Many of the students had been sent home, but there were still a good number of Gryffindors left whose parents had already been murdered, and not quite so many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. There were even a handful of Slytherins seeking refuge from their Death Eater parents. One such person was Draco Malfoy.

He sat, along with all the other students, cooped into the Gryffindor common room. The teachers faced the door, crouched behind pieces of furniture, while the students stayed near the walls of the room, out of the way. Carcasses were piled high outside the door, which by then was more empty space than wood; every now and then screams were heard, signaling the addition of another person to the body count.

Small sobs and mutterings wafted throughout the room, compounding the already oppressive atmosphere. Many of the students were curled into balls, hands around their knees, either crying or moaning.

Draco watched the proceedings with a mixture of pity and disgust. These people didn't deserve what was happening to them, and somewhere deep down he recognized this, but he also wished that they wouldn't fall to pieces. It was quite unnerving to hear so many of them, especially the newly-made orphans, crying out for their parents.

There was a flash of light, and a scream from inside the room as Professor Sinistra fell to the floor, clutching what was once an arm and had turned to nothing but a bloody stump.

"Poppy, get over here!" shouted McGonagall, her face tight as she looked at the injured teacher, who was losing vast amounts of blood.

The nurse, attending to Flitwick, who had been put under the cruciatus and was babbling incoherently, rushed across the room. As she crossed the open doorway, a stray beam of green light caught her in the back. She fell to the floor, lifeless.

"She's dead," Hermione sobbed. "She's dead!"

The students were suddenly in a panic. Many screams of "We have to get out!" permeated the air, and the students tried just that. Draco was caught up in the surge as everyone tried to escape the room. Students fell all around him to the Death Eaters' spells; only he and a few select others escaped relatively unscathed.

They ran through the halls in a blind panic, trying simply to get out, ignoring the many cries of anguish that echoed from behind them.

A brief commotion ahead; the sound of a door opening and stone shifting to crush someone, judging by the howls of pain. Soon after, voices followed.

"That sounded painful."

"Of course it sounded painful! You crushed him somewhere where he would die slowly! Did you stop to think that you probably woke the entire castle?"

"Do you really think anyone's sleeping through this?"

Draco recognized the voices. "Roy, is that you?"

A light from around the corner. "Draco?"

"Draco Malfoy? That bratty blonde kid?"

"Quiet, Ed. He's actually a decent person, once you get past the snobbish exterior. Kind of like Hawkeye once you get past the gun."

"Oh."

"I _am_ here, you know," Draco informed them as he rounded the corner and got his first good look at them. They looked terrible. Tired, malnourished, dirty… And they smelled like pigs, which he told them.

Ed looked at Roy. "I blame you. You're the one who led us into that plant that smelled like skunk."

"You're the one who decided to go through that swampy area that reeked of sulfur."

"Well, you-"

Draco intervened, raising his hands for peace. "Look, you need to go into hiding. Hermione, Harry, and I have set up a safe place for you, but you need to come now before anyone from the Ministry catches sight of you. You're wanted."

"We can't abandon everyone here and let them get themselves killed by Death Eaters!" protested Ed. "You wizards have no concept of how to defend yourselves!"

"I agree," Roy stated firmly. "Wizards are helpless. We can go into hiding once the battle is going in your favor."

Another scream cut through the air, this time one of the students. Draco paled. The other students had kept running when he stopped to see Roy… And had apparently run into Death Eaters.

Ed sprang forward without hesitation, sprinting toward the source of the noise, Roy right behind him. Draco followed reluctantly. After all, wasn't it human nature to _avoid_ things that were potentially lethal?

The castle was a veritable labyrinth of passages, each echoing with howls of pain, making it nearly impossible for the alchemists to find the point of origin. Ed growled, frustrated, as he found himself at a convergence of nearly twenty passages, each with its own cries. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Hold on a moment," Roy said quietly. He pulled on a glove - one of the ones intended for transmuting earth - and pressed his hand to the ground.

The transmutation circle on his glove activated, allowing him to feel some of the larger vibrations that ran through the stone floor. It took him several moments, but eventually he was able to isolate a mass of smaller vibrations that had been made by a mass of frightened children.

He pointed down a passageway to the left. "That one," he indicated.

Ed stood there for a moment, fascinated. He had never really seen alchemy used as a sensing device, only as something mechanical. If it could be used to sense objects or people, then could it be used to set an alarm? But that would require a constant energy source, unless…

Pulling himself back to the present, Ed offered a hand and pulled Roy back up, then followed the older man down the passageway. The sight that greeted them was one nearly as depraved as human transmutation.

The students were all crowded into a corner, shying away from the wands that the Death Eaters had pointed at them. Several of the students had been pulled aside for special treatment- some of them being crucioed, several in the process of being raped.

Ed recognized the expression that each and every one of them wore- it was a mask of shock induced when they could no longer stand the terror of reality. While they sobbed, they cried, and they screamed, their eyes remained blank.

That was good. Maybe they would be able to recover.

The Death Eaters paused in their activities, turning their wands on the newcomers. Before they could strike, however, Roy had stalked forward and snapped, incinerating several of the attackers. At the same time, Ed clapped and pressed his hands to the floor, creating spikes that impaled several Death Eaters.

A good number of the Dark Lord's followers still remained, though. They sent a flurry of spells toward the alchemists, which the two weren't entirely able to dodge. Ed was lucky; the curse that hit him connected with his automail, causing only negligible damage. Roy wasn't quite so lucky; blood spurted from his arm like a fountain.

He transmuted a barrier to buy himself some time, then sat and tried to cauterize the wound. The edges of the cut charred slightly, but the magic seemed slightly resistant to his alchemy.

Draco saw Roy get injured, and a conflict arose within him. He really didn't want to put himself at risk, but he didn't want Roy to try fighting wounded, either. He growled angrily and, throwing caution to the wind, ran behind the barrier that the dark-haired alchemist had erected.

"What the hell are you doing?" hissed the older man. "You'll get yourself killed if you run into the middle of battles like that!"

"If you hadn't gotten your sorry ass wounded, he wouldn't have had to!" Ed snapped, throwing himself behind the barricade to avoid a killing curse.

Roy frowned, but he held his arm out. Draco pulled out his wand and muttered a quick healing spell, hoping that it worked; after all, he specialized in curses, not healing. Thankfully, the edges of the wound began to creep inward, reducing what had been a gaping wound to a thin, silvery scar.

"Impressive," Roy said by way of thanks, and Draco nodded his affirmation. Then the towhead ran back to help some of the students who had escaped during the alchemists' attack.

Roy lay behind the barrier for another moment; he was feeling slightly lightheaded from blood loss. After allowing himself a few seconds to adjust, he forced himself to his feet like the trained soldier he was and snapped his fingers, burning one of the Death Eaters to a crisp. Meanwhile, Ed had transmuted a series of stalagmites that rose form the ground to impale enemies.

The Death Eaters were far from defenseless, however. The smarter ones hid themselves behind piles of debris that the transmutations had created, waiting for the opportunity to strike. When Ed or Roy would turn away to deal with other wizards, they would come out from their shelters and cast their spells.

Many cries of "Avada Kedavra!" could be heard, as well as several other creative dark spells such as "Sectumsempra!" Thankfully, none of these hit their mark, instead dissolving into the ground as they missed.

Eventually one of the more intelligent Death Eaters raised her wand. "Confringo!" Narcissa Malfoy screamed, aiming not at the alchemists, but at the barrier. It exploded, sending fragments flying through the air, one of which struck Ed in the back.

White-hot pain raced up his back, the force of the blow sending him to his knees. As he fell, he noticed a spell headed for him and was unable to dodge. It caught him square in the chest, filling him with pain and setting his nerves ablaze.

Roy saw him fall, heard the strangled scream that he bit back. It reminded him of the little boy he had seen so long ago, feverish and missing two limbs, too proud to cry.

He was about to burn that bitch alive, but someone else beat him to it. "Sectumsempra!" screamed Draco, eyes alight with fury.

Red stains blossomed upon her heavy robes, and the tips of her near-white hair were slowly dyed the same shade of crimson. She fell backward from the force of the spell, blood flying upward in a graceful arc, wand falling from lifeless fingers.

By then, only a few Death Eaters were left; most had either been burned or impaled. Aided by their desperation, they charged.

Roy snapped nonstop, trying to prevent any of them from reaching him. He wasn't entirely successful; Nott and Lestrange both reached him, at which point he pressed his earth glove to the ground and transmuted a spear. With only their wands for defense, the Death Eaters had little chance.

Ed was reached sooner by his enemies and so had to rely on close-range tactics. With little time to deal with each opponent, he resorted to a form of alchemy that he truly hated. He followed Scar's example and stopped at the deconstruction stage of the transmutation.

He spun, catching one woman in the face and beginning to transmute it. Her face disintegrated into a bloody pulp that drenched everyone in the area. After several more transmutations, Ed was finally done, several more only half-intact bodies lying around him.

"Disgusting," he muttered, brushing little chunks off his sleeves.

One of the children let out a hoarse yell, and Roy turned to look. It was Harry, collapsed on the ground and clutching his scar. A moment later, he stopped his shaking, stopped his screaming.

"Harry, what is it?" Hermione asked in a worried fashion.

"It's Voldemort. He's here," Harry panted.

"Where?" Ed demanded.

Harry gave no response.

"_Where?_"

"Stop yelling at him!" Hermione snapped.

"This is important!"

"We've beaten enough of the Death Eaters that he has no choice but to pull back for now, so it doesn't matter where Voldemort is. What's important is to get you and Roy into hiding before the Ministry shows up!" Draco intervened. He wished he hadn't; both Hermione and Ed turned toward him and glared menacingly.

Thankfully for Draco, a commotion from downstairs distracted them, stopping the upcoming argument.

There was a flurry of spells shouted, some of them in very official-sounding voices; obviously the Ministry had come to keep up appearances that they were actively pursuing the Death Eaters. Soon, a series of pops could be heard as the Death Eaters fled. Ministry members started to pour up the stairwells, rounding the corner and entering the room a few moments later.

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**Please review!**


	17. Chapter 15

**A/N:** For reasons why the chapter was late, see the bottom A/N. Many thanks to bluerose24, Michelle, BlackVixin, CrimsonMoon2009, Yah-Oh-Ee, landmonster, musicvamp55, CleverPhoenix, Suzuku90, mrawgirl09 (I swear, you remember more about the story than I do!), Sonia120462, Santoryuu-Zoro, and Tana Walker for reviewing. Next time I'll actually respond to the review itself, I swear! (sweatdrops)

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As soon as the Ministry officials rounded the corner, they saw the state of the room and its occupants and immediately blamed the two wanted fugitives in the room. It didn't matter that there were Death Eater corpses littering the ground, or that the students seemed to look at the two alchemists for protection. No, what mattered was that those two were wanted for crimes against the state, even if nobody knew what those crimes were.

"Hands up!" one official exclaimed loudly, leveling his wand at the pair.

Others in the group of wizards were not so inclined to give fair warning. So before Ed and Roy were even given the chance to surrender, various stunning spells were being shot at them.

Dodging a red beam of light, Roy snapped, creating a wave of flame between the Ministry officials and himself. His intent was not to kill or maim, but to distract, and it worked. The aurors ducked for cover as the flames billowed over their heads, and when looking back to the alchemists could see nothing through the smoke.

Ed ran to the nearest wall, clapping his hands and creating, as was his style, an overly ornate door.

"Come on!" the blonde yelled back at Roy.

He hastily obeyed, a certain towheaded wizard following suit. Hermione, against her common sense, followed as well.

"Where do we go?" Roy asked.

Draco shrugged. He was unfamiliar with this portion of the school.

"_Honestly_," Hermione muttered. "Turn left!" she called, panting. She was a bookworm, after all, and not well suited for running. Well, not unless there was a giant, three-headed dog chasing her. That sort of thing tended to provide the necessary motivation.

Roy heard the panting and stopped, mildly concerned. She gasped out directions and waved them on.

A few minutes later, Draco had to drop back as well.

"Hey, Roy, do you have any idea why they're trying to arrest us?" Ed asked.

"Karma, of course," Roy replied easily. "After you kept destroying buildings on missions, I'm surprised that retribution didn't come sooner."

"Hey! That building in Xenotime was _not_ my fault!"

Roy ignored this, obviously skeptical. "More importantly, why do we have to walk past this room three times?"

"Well, three _is_ a symbolic number in this world. Some sort of religious thing."

"But I thought most religions disapproved of witchcraft?"

"Don't get me started!" Ed fumed.

They ran on, footfalls echoing loudly against the hard stone floor. Thankfully, there was nobody nearby to hear the racket, or they would have long ago been arrested. Oh, there were Ministry fools about, but judging by the shouts that echoed weakly through the maze of passages, they were a long ways off, and therefore rendered harmless. (Though privately both Ed and Roy were doubtful that any of these buffoons posed much of a threat in groups less than ten or so...)

They stopped, panting for breath, in front of a conspicuously blank stretch of wall. Roy walked back and forth in front of it, thinking _I need a place to hide_.

A plain, worn-looking door suddenly appeared in the blank stretch of wall. He opened it eagerly, but his face fell as he caught a glimpse of the inside.

"It's a broom closet," Ed said in disbelief.

"You have an amazing grasp of the obvious," Roy drawled. He closed the door angrily, the slam echoing much like their footsteps had. _I need a place to hide _comfortably_ and _for a while, he thought, walking back and forth a few more times.

This time, the door that appeared was in slightly better shape, for all that it was lime green.

"Not terribly inconspicuous, is it?" he sighed.

"Well, at least it couldn't get any more lurid."

In response, the door sprouted purple polka dots and a hot pink, feathered boa surrounding it- obviously its way of extending the metaphorical middle finger.

Roy's eyebrow twitched dangerously. Just as he was about to snap and burn the door down, hiding be damned, it change back to a more subtle-looking guise. This time, when he opened it, there was a spacious room with two beds, an adjoining bathroom, and a pantry.

They walked inside, and the door closed behind them. Ed flopped onto the nearest chair, exhausted.

"I need a shower," he groaned as a lock of once blonde, now brownish hair flopped into his eyes. "You want to go first, or shall I?"

"You go ahead."

Ed nodded, but made no move to get up.

"Weren't you going to take a shower?" Roy commented a few minutes later.

"This chair is so comfortable, though... I think I'll just fall asleep here..."

"Legs too short to reach the ground?"

"_Who are you calling so small that he can't have allergies because the pollen is too big to fit up his nose?!_"

"You're the one who said it, not me. Gods, I could use a drink," Roy groaned. He looked around, noticing something strange. "Was that cabinet there a minute ago?"

"The green one? I think we would have noticed it before now..."

Roy walked over and opened the cabinet. The inside was filled with a rather impressive assortment of alcohol, everything from gin to wine to some wizarding variations. (_"Blow fire and amaze your friends!"_ proclaimed a bottle of Odgen's Firewhisky.)

Roy's face sprouted an evil smirk. "You know," he said to the room in general, "I could use a nice, shapely redhead..."

"_ROY!"_

He ducked as the chair Ed had been sitting in erupted in spikes and came flying at his head.

* * *

Draco walked back to where Hermione had stopped, hoping that there were no Ministry idiots nearby. If there were, they'd undoubtedly arrest him on the spot for being a Death Eater, regardless of the fact that they had no evidence against him simply because _he wasn't one_. He wondered if the government recruited hapless morons for the important jobs, or if it was being in the government that made people so stupid. A bit of both, probably...

He looked around. The halls were eerily quiet, considering that there were Death Eaters in the school. Perhaps they were leaving?

He stopped. Where was he again? Honestly, after being at the school since he was eleven, he would have thought he would know his way around already. Suddenly, the hall echoed with a shout of "Expelliarmus!"

He ran toward the source of the noise, rounding a corner and seeing Hermione struggling with a Death Eater, who on closer inspection proved to be Macnair.

"Crucio!" the man yelled, pointing his wand at Hermione.

She dodged the spell and, instead of using expelliarmus, which could be dodged, yelled "Accio wand!"

Macnair didn't let go of his wand, instead allowing the magic to drag him toward the girl until he stood right in front of her. "Avada-"

"Confringo!" Draco snapped, and the man's head exploded, showering both of them with blood.

Hermione promptly turned green and retched. After a moment, she recovered herself and stood shakily. "Thanks," she said slowly, as if she wasn't really sure that was the word she wanted to use.

Draco shrugged, slightly green as well. "Let's get back to the others. It'll be safer."

Hermione nodded, following him back to the other students. On the way, they paused, hearing an unusually irate Dumbledore. They snuck closer, making as little noise as possible to avoid being heard. Fortunately, whatever was going on seemed to be taking up everyone's attention, so they remained unnoticed.

"Can you tell what's going on?" Hermione whispered.

Draco shook his head. "It looks like Voldemort's here, and he and Dumbledore are talking. That's about all I can tell."

"_Voldemort?_" Hermione gasped. "And they're just _talking_?"

Suddenly, there was a flurry of spells shouted, and multicolored beams of light flew across the room. After a minute, everything quieted.

McGonagall and Dumbledore talked for a moment, and one thing above all else stood out to them.

"I want you to assume leadership of the castle," Dumbledore said. And soon he was gone.

Hermione turned toward Draco, tears spilling down her cheeks. She grabbed hold of him and sobbed into his chest, while he could only stand there in stunned silence. The headmaster was gone.

* * *

A few moments earlier...

Albus Dumbledore was absolutely livid, not that he would show it. There were Death Eaters all around the school, and here these Ministry people were trying to track down two fugitives. They couldn't be bothered to help with cleaning up the school, of course, or taking care of the wounded. No, they were too busy asking the same inane questions over and over again.

Dumbledore smiled, hiding his anger. "I'm afraid I don't know where they are, though I assure you I'll let you know if I see them. Lemon drop?"

Umbridge sneered back at him. "A muggle candy? How... quaint. But of course you realize that the Ministry will have to search the castle, since they were seen here."

"Perhaps you should search among the dead- they may yet turn up there."

Oh, how he enjoyed seeing that red face of hers turn green. But it was troubling news that the two had been seen in Hogwarts. After he tried to establish Elric as a spy in Voldemort's ranks, he was sure that neither of them would be particularly forgiving.

Umbridge left in a hurry, trying to maintain some dignity as she fled but failing miserably.

Where would they be? He could think of only one place where he wouldn't be able to find them...

He took out his wand and whispered "Point me." The wand did nothing, simply laying in his palm.

It was as he had feared. They were in the Room of Requirement, had asked it to hide them from prying eyes. And this meant that he would only be able to get to them once they came out voluntarily, because the Room of Requirement would keep him and everyone else out until they wished otherwise.

"Dumbledore?"

He quickly snapped out of his musings to see Harry standing in front of him. The boy looked exhausted, his clothes ripped and his face dirty.

He smiled as kindly as he could, given the circumstances. "What is it, Harry?"

"Voldemort's here... in the castle," the boy gasped out.

"Do you know where?"

"How on Earth would I know that?" Harry snapped.

Holding in his anger, Dumbledore thanked Harry and swiftly strode away, wand at the ready. Each step he took seemed to bring another body into view, many of them people he knew well. Professor Sinestra, for example. And Poppy, of course.

The remaining Ministry officials, upon seeing him walking so purposefully, followed him, as did most of the Order members who were left.

They made their way through a labyrinth of hallways, their footfalls echoing loudly against the cold stone floors as the boots of soldiers marching into battle. They finally reached the Great Hall, where they saw a scene of carnage. Bodies, burned, twisted and bloodied beyond recognition. A few select victims still in the process of drawing their last breaths. And in the midst of all this sat Lord Voldemort, surrounded by his Death Eaters.

"Tom."

"Dumbledore... How _nice_ to see you again. I believe you have something of mine."

"And that would be...?"

The serpentine face contorted in rage. "My brother, you senile old fool."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. Maybe the Room of Requirement issue was fortuitous after all. "I'm afraid that he is currently out of my reach, and yours as well."

Voldemort's face twisted even further, as impossible as it seemed. "Liar!" interjected Carrow.

"It's the truth, Tom. We cannot reach him. You have no reason to be here, Tom. You ought to put your hatred aside."

The twisted snake smiled, whipping out his wand and screaming "Avada kedavra!"

One of the Ministry members fell, and the remainder showed no quarter as they let loose a volley of spells at the Death Eaters. Many of them died right then, leaving perhaps one-tenth of the force that had originally come to Hogwarts. They began disapparating, but Voldemort himself was not finished.

"Confringo!" he screamed.

"Protego!" Dumbledore replied.

"Sectumsempra!"

Dumbledore dodged, knowing that shield spells were rather ineffective there, but the spell caught him in his damaged hand. His arm erupted into a fountain of red. Still, he wordlessly raised his wand, creating a golden band of light that quickly crossed the distance between them.

Voldemort was on his guard, though, so he shielded himself and the band parted around him, incinerating the few remaining Death Eaters.

Realizing that he was outnumbered, he sent off one final parting shot- a line of black light that had Dumbledore down on his knees in pain- and disapparated.

McGonagall rushed forward, seeing the pained look on the headmaster's face. "Albus, what's wrong?"

Dumbledore merely shook his head in response, standing slowly. He was noticeably favoring his injured hand, though, and if anyone looked closely they would be able to see the greenish-black coloration of gangrene over his fingers and extending up his arm.

"Minerva," he said, "I want you to assume leadership of the castle. Get the wards back up and focus on treating the wounded. I have to get to the last horcrux before he does."

McGonagall, eyes tearing, asked, "Do you know where it is? What it looks like?"

He smiled thinly. "It's Hufflepuff's cup- of course I know what it looks like. As for where... I believe I will keep that to myself to ensure that you don't feel the need to put yourself in danger."

He apparated away, into the Leaky Cauldron. Tom, the barkeep, nodded a greeting, returning to the glass he was cleaning almost immediately. Dumbledore strode through confidently, moving quickly enough that the few people in the establishment didn't bother him.

He headed into muggle London, ignoring the stares that his odd manner of dress brought. He was even wearing some of his tamer robes- none of the moving, exploding, or multicolored stars on them. It was even matching colors!

Thankfully, the robes hid his hand, which felt like it was on fire. Dumbledore knew the spell he had been hit with- it was one that caused rapid decay of the flesh. He could feel the magical residue coating his arm, feeling like hot oil as its effects crept further and further up. It was nearly to his shoulder now, rendering that arm almost completely useless.

He wanted to go to St. Mungo's to get treated, but two things stopped him. One, this spell took days to cure and Voldemort was powerful enough that the spell was moving too fast to be treated. Two, if he died the protections that he had put up around the horcrux would be completely worn away, allowing Voldemort to reach it.

He stepped into a shabby little hospital after a while, eyes full of pity as he took in its inhabitants. This was an asylum, one where Voldemort had spent a few years as a child before he returned to the orphanage.

Dumbledore willed himself invisible to the people around him, soon finding himself standing before Hufflepuff's cup, hidden in the basement under a multitude of spells to escape detection. It was splendid, beautiful, but the piece of soul inside it lent it an evil quality that made his instincts scream at him to get away, there was something wrong with it. There was a sort of falsely sweet, cloying feeling that accompanied the piece.

He apparated away, into the Forbidden Forest, where nobody would bother him. Not having anything on hand to destroy it, he had to improvise. He took out his wand and tapped it against the cup, closing his eyes as he felt outward with his mind.

When he opened his eyes again, they blazed as the two souls now inside his consciousness waged war against each other. This internal battle slowly bled outward, the fire spilling over the lids of his eyes and floating in the air around him, creating a bubble of sorts that was completely blinding in its intense brightness.

For a while, nothing seemed to happen... and then the fire returned to his body, which collapsed under the heat as the two souls were incinerated.

The cup melted, quietly dripping down from its podium onto the ashes of the only man Voldemort ever feared.

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**A/N:** Many apologies for the late update (seven months... damn...) but life has been hectic. That, combined with computer problems (my computer has decided that it hates me) combined with killer writer's block (but only on this story... it made me work on several other stories that I haven't posted) has made this chapter horribly, horribly late. Hopefully you can forgive me? Hopefully there are still people reading this...  
If there are still people reading this, I don't suppose you'd drop a **review**? Even if it's just to berate me for being so late?  
And please, if you see anything inconsistent with the rest of the story, let me know! I honestly can't remember who I've killed off at this point...


	18. Chapter 16

A/N: Sorry it's been so long... Life's been a bitch, what can I say? Anyway, I'm sorry! Many thanks to the wonderful people who reviewed last chapter: catxmelons, sesshypuppysbff, rae2009, cagna, Dzem, 777angeloflove, DayDreamer1236, Aniki the Crim, Kurotaka Naoko, Lolmaster27, Natures-Rose, Tree of Angels, deddosora-, mrawgirl09, CleverPhoenix, and especially deceiving reality, who sent me a recent review that inspired me to get up off my butt and post this as well as offering some much appreciated criticism. I love all of you! And I know I said this before, but life is calming down a bit, so hopefully the next chapter will be up sooner and I'll actually reply to reviews...

* * *

With Dumbledore dead, the castle entered a state of shock. For the first couple of days, nobody knew, but once Hermione broke down crying in front of witnesses the rumors began flying. The Hogwarts rumor mill was vicious, and it operated smoothly, so by the end of the day everybody in the castle had heard about how Dumbledore had gone down in a blaze of glory, severely injuring Voldemort in a Duel. But then most of them had also heard that the Ministry had arrested him and he was being held in Azkaban.

If anyone doubted the veracity of the first theory (Luna insisted that ear pixies had made him forget who he was- they liked older people) the matter was laid to rest a week after the attack, during lunch.

McGonagall stood up in front of the remaining student body, her eyes red from crying. "Albus Dumbledore is dead," she said bluntly. Nobody made a sound, saddened but unsurprised by the news. "He died protecting us, dealing a crucial blow against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Normally, we would close the school, but I realize that many of you have no place to go. We will stay here, and in lieu of classes any teachers who are otherwise unoccupied will lead students in reconstruction efforts.

"I want all of you to think about what Albus has done for us. He was a great man, and will always be remembered."

She lifted her goblet into the air in front of her. "To Albus Dumbledore. May he find peace."

Students across the hall, regardless of house, all raised their glasses, toasting the fallen headmaster. "To Albus Dumbledore" rumbled across the hall, sounding for all the world like thunder to complement the hall's stormy grey skies.

Draco sat in the hall, thinking, left utterly alone. The other students glanced over at him frequently – he could _feel_ them staring – as if to assure themselves that yes, the Slytherin Ice Prince was indeed sitting there instead of out partying with his Death Eater friends. This was made even more conspicuous by the fact that only a few of the Slytherin students remained, most of them younger ones who were too young to fight either way.

He tried to ignore them, instead focusing on the enigma that was Dumbledore. The man had never been particularly kind to any houses other than Gryffindor, had held a fairly blatant animosity toward the Death Eaters' children, but was still willing to give his life in defense of said students? It didn't add up.

McGonagall had said something about the old man striking a crucial blow against Voldemort. That had to be it. His motives were not drawn out of care for his students, but rather from his need to play hero. Of course.

But then wouldn't he have waited for an opportunity that didn't involve suicide?

Draco hated unanswered questions, but the headmaster was too confusing to pick apart.

The Golden Trio was crying, of course. Out of the entire house of Gryffindor, there was not one dry eye. Hermione, even through her grief, was thinking as well.

With Dumbledore gone, there shouldn't be any risk in getting Ed and Roy out of the Room of Requirement, as long as there were no Ministry officials at Hogwarts. And since being at Hogwarts would mean being pressured into actually _doing_ something, like aiding in the reconstruction efforts, it was unlikely that any Ministry idiots would show up on the scene.

The only question was how to get to the two alchemists when the Room was hiding them.

She stood, walking over to Draco and ignoring the stares and muttering that followed her as everyone wondered why she would be talking to the Slytherin Ice Prince. That shock, of course, was nothing compared to what followed as he proceeded to converse with her quite civilly.

"Granger," he greeted, inclining his head slightly.

She rolled her eyes. "It's Hermione."

"What can I do for you?" he asked, ignoring her comment. Privately, he thought that she should just be happy it wasn't 'mudblood' anymore.

"How do you think we can get them out of the Room?"

"You think we can? The Ministry is quite interested," he replied, also being deliberately vague, aware of the eavesdropping students.

"If any Ministry people came by, they would be obligated to help rebuild."

One corner of his mouth twitched. "And McGonagall?"

"Too noble to have been involved."

He nodded, agreeing with the assessment. The woman was many things, including insufferable, but she _was_ noble. "If the terms of them entering were just to hide, do you think it will block us if we already know they're there?"

She shook her head. "We've already tried it. You were in there and Harry wanted to know what you were doing."

"_What?_"

"It's alright, the Room wouldn't let him in," she said soothingly.

He didn't seem terribly relieved, more offended at the thought that Potter would have so little respect for others' privacy. He took a sip of tea to clam himself.

"So… What _were_ you doing in there?" Harry said, walking up with Ron close behind.

Draco choked. "That's none of your business!"

"Just curious…"

He sighed. "I was playing the piano. Happy?"

Ron muttered something that sounded like "Bloody aristocrat," and Hermione slapped his arm to shut him up. Draco's glare would have curdled milk, so that may have also contributed to Ron's sudden silence.

"Anyway," Hermione continued, "we still haven't figured out how to get them out of the Room."

"…Do you think we could ask the Room to tell them we're there, or to pass along a message?" Harry asked.

"Since they asked to be hidden from people, a message probably won't work, since it's a form of contact. Your first idea should work, though, since it doesn't allow any sort of contact on our part," Draco said. "Are you sure you're not a Slytherin?"

Harry grimaced. "The Sorting Hat tried to put me in Slytherin."

"And you ended up in Gryffindor?" Draco asked, appalled.

"I asked it to put me there."

"_Why_? Were you ill?"

Harry winced. "Well, you see, _you_ were in Slytherin, so…"

"You were a rude little bugger," Ron supplied helpfully, by way of explanation.

"Thank you for that overwhelmingly positive assessment of my character," Draco snapped. "If I recall, you hadn't given me any reason whatsoever to be polite to you."

"You were just like your father, Ferret. How else was I supposed to act?"

"I'm not my father, Weasel." Draco jammed his fork into a slice of tomato on his plate rather harder than was necessary. The poor tomato made a very satisfying squish as it was speared, seeds flying through the air to land on Ron's shirt by way of some subtle magical intervention on Draco's part. Ron wrinkled his nose and was opening his mouth to retaliate when Hermione intervened.

"_Boys_," she muttered under her breath before changing the subject. "Do you think we should get them out of the Room now, or should we wait?"

"Why the hell would we wait?" Ron asked cluelessly.

"For things to calm down, Ronald," Hermione stated matter-of-factly. "Hogwarts is a wreck right now. If we leave them in there until the defenses are back up, at least, they'll be safer."

"Plus the Death Eaters are likely to stage another attack during that time period, which will distract the Ministry from hunting them," Harry added.

"If we wait, let it be just another couple of days. I know the room can give them food and all, and it's not likely they'll starve or anything, but I'd go bonkers if I was stuck in that room for too long," Ron said.

* * *

Ed sneezed as he flopped back on the bed, sinking slightly into the cushions. "This is pointless," he complained loudly, letting out a long sigh. He had no idea how long they'd been in the room – a clock appeared on the wall, but he steadfastly ignored it and it went away – and he didn't really want to know just how long he'd been sitting there without doing anything.

It's just… His life had been centered around some purpose for as long as he could remember. Whether it was learning alchemy, attempting to resurrect the dead, or searching for the Philosopher's Stone, a purpose had always been there. Now, just trying to make sure that he and Roy survived, he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. Especially since they were stuck in the same damn room for days.

"Roy, they said they'd get us out once it was safe, right?" Ed asked hesitantly.

"Of course. Why do you ask? Your memory becoming as short as the rest of you?"

The blonde saw red for a moment. "Who are you calling so small that he could asphyxiate from the spaces between the molecules in the air?"

"Well, you're the only other one in the room, so it's a perfectly logical assumption that I was talking to you."

"Bastard General with a God complex," Ed muttered.

"You're not very good at whispering sweet nothings, are you?"

Ed leaned in close, his breath tickling the older man's ear. "Would you like to try me, sexy?"

Roy involuntarily licked his lips, his breath hitching and his palms starting to sweat at the suggestion. He kept his cool, though, or tried to. "Are you sure you're up to the challenge?"

Ed considered for a moment before answering. "You're right."

"I am?" popped out of Roy's mouth before he could help it, in a tone of incredulous surprise.

"Yes, you're right," Ed replied in a disappointed voice. "I think I have a paper cut, so I'd better not do anything strenuous."

"How's your back?" Roy asked seriously. "That rock hit you pretty hard."

Ed waved a hand dismissively. "It's not bad. I've got one hell of a nasty bruise there, though."

Well, there go any thoughts of flipping him onto his back and fucking him senseless, Roy thought in resignation.

"I know that glint in your eye. Don't you deny it."

Roy raised his hands in mock surrender. "Guilty as charged. It's your fault, though. Ever since the Room let you shower you've been wandering around with your shirt undone."

"But it's so _comfortable_," Ed whined.

"It's not like I'm complaining – the view is great, believe me," Ryo said, his eyes roaming across Ed's exposed chest, almost caressing the tanned expanse of skin, resting on the scars by his automail and over his stomach and heart.

"Then is there some sort of no-touch rule that I'm unaware of? You've been unusually subdued."

"Your back-"

"Will be fine," the blonde said in exasperation, rolling his eyes.

Roy slid his hand behind Ed's head, bringing their mouths together in a searing kiss. They continued for a while, tongues twisting in an intricate dance, until lack of oxygen made them part.

They stared at each other for a moment, panting… And then Roy poked the blonde's bruise.

"Ow!" Ed exclaimed, as much out of surprise as pain. "What was that for?"

"Your back will be fine, hm?"

"It will!" Ed insisted.

Before they got the opportunity to find out, the wall started changing colors. It was slow, flowing and ornate, as though some invisible quill had started to write on the wall in a blinding silver ink.

_Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are waiting outside the room_, it read.

Ed buttoned his shirt as quickly as he could, swearing occasionally as the buttons slipped through his automail fingers. The door to the Room opened just as he finished. He rushed forward, blissfully happy to be getting out. Roy followed, just as happy to be free but maintaining his composure – he did have that cool, collected and sexy reputation to uphold, after all…

His stomach rumbled.

…Though his body didn't seem to want to cooperate. The Golden Trio (Quartet?) was staring at him strangely.

"I'm hungry," he said by way of explanation and shrugged.

Hermione rolled her eyes, once again muttering something to the effect of "_boys_" under her breath as Harry and Ron nodded emphatically at Roy's statement. "That makes sense," she said. "It's easy to lose track of time in there and forget to eat, and you were in there for four days, after all."

"No wonder I was so bored," Ed muttered, and Roy smiled slightly. Then his stomach growled again.

"You need to eat more," Ed commented.

"I eat plenty," Roy retorted. "Perhaps if you didn't eat your own weight in food each day, you'd know that. Though, now that I think about it, that isn't that much, is it?"

"_Who are you calling an ultra-midget so tiny that he could be crushed by a pea?_"

"You said it, not me."

"I am _not_ small!" Ed all but screamed.

"Whip it out and prove it," Roy muttered, just loud enough to be audible. The students choked, Hermione gasping for air.

Perhaps fearing that Ed would follow through with the dare, as the blonde looked ready to do just about anything to prove his size, Ron intervened.

"Let's go to the kitchen sand grab some grub," he suggested, only to help in pain as Hermione grabbed his ear.

"You just love to give more work to those poor house elves, don't you?' she scolded. "They work hard enough as it is without you adding to their load, Ronald!"

"But they love it, 'Mione!" he protested, cowering in fear. She sounded far too much like his mum for him to be happy. It was the high-pitched, scolding tone that every woman who had ever existed in his family had been gifted with, so he was all too familiar with it.

"Just because they've been brainwashed-"

"As enthralling as this little lovers' spat is, could we leave now?" Draco asked, staring at the bickering pair in disdain. _What is it with these people?_ was clearly written across his and Harry's faces. Of course, they were both conveniently forgetting their infamous quarrels – those had gotten so out of hand that some second-year Hufflepuff had started a betting pool on who would get sent to the infirmary first and what injuries with they would have. The two leading theories were Harry, being hexed off his broomstick during a Quidditch match, and Draco, being bitten by a large, venemous snake that Harry had set on him.

And Harry thought people had forgotten that he was a parseltongue. Poor, naïve boy.

They walked toward the kitchen, happy to see that nobody was around. Although, sure, Roy and Ed's disappearance would have to be explained at some point, why do today what they could put off until tomorrow? Or, better yet, even later than that?

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A/N: Please review! I'd really appreciate it... It helps motivate me, too! **And please give me some new title ideas!** This was the first fic I started working on, so I forgot about the title bit until I was putting it up... Credit, of course, goes to whoever suggests the title I end up choosing. :)


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